The Secrets We Keep
by Psikitty
Summary: Marian Hawke and Anders know each others secrets. Can they keep them, or will it be their undoing? AU after Act 2. Anders/Fenris Part Three: What Was Lost The only way to regain what was lost, is to go back to the beginning.
1. Chapter 1

"Wait... what?"

It was rare that Anders found himself at a loss for words, but here he was, gaping at Marian Hawke while his mind struggled to grasp what she was telling him.

Marian sighed and her gaze flickered to the fireplace roaring in her bedroom. She turned back to Anders a wry smile on her lips. "I can say it again, Anders. It won't be any different than it was the last three times I said it."

"I don't understand," he sputtered. "How did this-"

Marian laughed. "And here I thought _you_ were the healer out of the two of us. If you don't know how it happened, then maybe the circle left out more of your education than you let on." Her expression sobered and she clasped her hands in front of her, the sleeves of her emerald robes falling down to cover her wrists. "I'm pregnant. I need you to move in with me."

_What have you done, mage!_

Anders winced as Justice's voice rang out in his psyche. He really hated it when the spirit did that to him. It felt like someone had clanged a large bell-while he was wearing it-and the sound reverberated through his skull.

"I didn't _do_ anything!" he cried. He held up a hand as Marian opened her mouth. "Not you," he hissed.

Marian's mouth snapped closed as she watched Anders brows furrow. He looked looked like he was in pain as a grimace slipped over his face. She hated it when Justice and Anders fought. The look on the other mage's face and the way he held himself so stiffly, told a story of the physical and mental pain it took to fight with the spirit residing in him. It was times like this that she knew Anders lied when he said that he and Justice were one.

_When did you do this? _Justice demanded. _You threaten our goal! She threatens it! Distractions will not be tolerated. _

_Are you not with me every fucking second of every day? _Anders shot back. _She's not even showing yet. When do you think I could have done this?_

Justice lashed back, spiking pain through Anders' mind. _Everything we have worked for. We have a deal, mage! I released you from the Templars threatening you. In turn you gave me a body. Together we have a goal. I will not be deterred from it on your whims._

Anders sucked in a breath. _We massacred those Templars. Do not bring it up to me again, Justice. If you were ever my friend, do not._

The sound of a throat clearing was like thunder in the room. Anders jerked and focused on Marian. He looked down at his hand and watched as thin, blue lines receded back into his skin. He licked suddenly dry lips. Justice was becoming more and more out of control. Each day it became harder to tamp the spirit down. Each day it became harder for Anders not to think that he had traded one form of slavery for another. What did that say about him? The circle, the wardens and now Justice. Fenris was more free than Anders was at this point, although Anders would never say that out loud.

He released a shuddering breath and looked up at Marian, flashing her a charming smile he didn't feel. "As flattering as this is, Hawke. You and I both know I'm not the father. So that begs the question..." He trailed off and raised an expectant eyebrow at her.

Anders was grateful when Marian didn't comment on his lack of control. She sat down heavily on the edge of her bed. He loved Marian for that. She always seemed to know when to ask questions and when to not. When she didn't answer right away, Anders strode across the room and knelt down on front of her. He clasped both of her hands in his, forcing her to look at him.

"You've always been there for me, Marian. You've always had my back." He reached out and tucked some of her short, black hair behind her ear. "Even after your mother died and Fenris said..." He couldn't finish the thought. He still heard the warrior snarling at Anders that this was the fate of all mages. "I'm muddling this up, aren't I?" he asked, eliciting a small laugh from her.

"You're doing fine, Anders," she whispered. "I've... I've done something very stupid and I'm afraid."

Anders feigned shock. "Stupid? Stupider than dueling the Arishok? Maker, Hawke! I can't possibly think of what could be more-"

"The father is a Templar!" she rushed out, her words running together.

Anders released her hands and stumbled back to sit on the carpet. His eyes were wide as he began to laugh. "Bravo, Hawke! You almost had me there. A Templar? You wouldn't do that. You're an apostate for Maker's sake. Champion or not, Meredith would never overlook the scandal. They would take you and your baby, they would..." His voice drifted off as tears began to slip down Hawke's cheeks.

"No, no, no, no. Hawke? Marian?" He scrambled to his knees and grasped her hands again. "Who was it?" He clutched her to him as she began to sob.

"I can't... I can't tell you that. He's a good man. He shouldn't be punished for this and I..." She turned her face into his neck, her tears soaking his skin.

Not force then. Anders felt a small part of the tension ease out. If one of those power-mad bastards had raped her, there would be no force on earth that could protect them from Anders and Vengeance. As it was he felt Justice trying to assert himself. Anders closed his eyes. _Not now. She doesn't need you now._

_She has willingly lain with one of them. _Justice cried. _She, a mage... That she would do such a thing!_

_She is human. I know you've never understood that. But just... not now._

Justice slipped away and Anders was grateful. He opened his eyes, giving a quick kiss to Marian's head. "Does he at least know?" Anders asked.

She shook her head, lifting it to look at him with puffy, red eyes. "No. He can never know. I realize I am asking a lot of you, but I need," she swallowed and drew back from him. "I need your help. I can't leave Kirkwall. My mother is buried here. My brother is in the Gallows. I have status here and money. I could give a child of mine a good life."

"Until your child showed the promise of magic," Anders said softly.

"Then I will deal with that when the time comes. I will prepare for it so if we need to run, it isn't penniless or directionless." Marian looked at him fiercely, showing Anders the face of the woman who became the Champion of Kirkwall.

Anders sighed and shook his head. "All right. All right, Marian. What would you have me do? You mentioned me moving in?"

Her eyes lit up. "I know I'm asking a lot of you, but it was the only thing I could think of to do. If people thought _you_ were the father, another mage, I could buy myself some time. If the baby shows signs of magic, we can run then. But if the child doesn't-"

"Then you wouldn't need to leave." Anders blew out a breath. "Maker, Hawke. You're playing a deep game. With me..." He laughed mirthlessly "I'm a horrible player. I've never been good at intrigue. if it wasn't for the Warden-Commander, I would still be in the circle. If it wasn't for Justice, I would be dead. Varric and Aveline keep everyone off my back at the clinic. Do you see what I'm saying here?" He needed her to understand. He couldn't be relied on, not with something so important. She hadn't known him before Justice. The spirit had changed him in so many ways. But he was wavering. the more he thought about it, the more her plan seemed sound. The others in their little group already thought so little of him, if it would protect a child who couldn't help who its parents were, then Anders would take any criticism they would throw at him.

"You are one of the heads of the mage underground," Marian said, drawing him out his thoughts. "You're a circle trained mage and a Grey Warden. You have saved the lives of our friends on more than one occasion. You save lives daily at your clinic. Don't sell yourself short. You're one of the bravest people I know, Anders." She smiled an touched his cheek, her thumb rasping over the stubble there.

"I know you don't want to give _him_ anymore ammunition against you. I know how it hurts you. But what he says of you isn't true."

Anders froze, the air seizing in his lungs. She knows, he thought. Oh, Maker, she knows. "How did you find out?" he asked, the words torn from his lips.

Her smile turned sad. Thank the Maker it wasn't pity. Anders didn't know if he could have handled that. As it was, her eyes seemed to look into him, stripping him bare as she said out loud what Anders had only dared to admit to him in his deepest dreams.

"It wasn't easy to see. The way you look when he says the things he does..." She shook her head. "I figured it out a year ago. You're in love with Fenris."

Anders gave a small cry and jerked to his feet, stumbling away from her. "You can never tell him," he gritted out. "Never, Marian."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who has put this story on their alerts! It's author fuel!

Thanks to Untitled Dragon and Pintsizedpsyhco for the reviews!

A/N:

In this chapter I would like to point out that Hawke is perceived a certain way by Fenris and Anders. In this story they put her a little bit on a pedestal for a while. As far as they are concerned, she can do no wrong. When I eventually go into more about how she became pregnant and the decision to keep it a secret the way she has, this illusion will be shattered for them and hopefully the readers.

Once again this is an AU so while I might be keeping some quests and story lines of the game, most of it will veer off.

Anders and Fenris will be taking the slow route as well. To go from hate to love is a long road.

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><p>Marian and Anders had talked over the details long into the night. More than once, Anders had wondered silently why he couldn't have fallen for her instead. They understood each other in a way that was rare for him.<p>

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

Despite what Fenris thought, Anders understood all too clearly the life of a slave. The circle systemically stripped everything that made a mage an individual. They held the harrowing over the heads of the young, frightening them to toe the line. Some became so fearful, so indoctrinated in chantry lore, that they _asked_ to be made tranquil. None of them were ever armed when they went through their harrowing. They were thrown to the demonic wolves, left to transverse the fade without any real guidance. All the while, you knew that templars were hovering over your body, a greatsword at your neck ready to take your head if they had perceived you failed. A mage's training meant nothing in the fade. The lack of access to the right kind of knowledge, in-according the Chantry-the wrong kind of books hampered them. Some would rather be tranquil then go through it. They thought themselves weak and would rather a half life than none at all.

Death would be kinder. The tranquil were walking corpses. The dead who didn't know they were gone yet. To see a lover.. a friend become tranquil was a torture on its own. They weren't technically dead, so you couldn't mourn them. But they weren't living either. Everything that made a person, their very self, was stripped away. And once they were tranquil... well that was even more enraging. The Chantry couldn't just have them doing nothing for the rest of their lives. They were set to do things like enchanting and cleaning. It was menial work that made them money.

The mages that conformed, the ones that made themselves useful and were used as examples of circle taught, mage kind, were just as bad. They spent their lives doing as they were told. They fought when the Chantry wanted them to and mended the broken bones of the templars. Most of them knew no other life. They didn't know-or were too afraid to know-what living in freedom really meant. Afraid of the whispers in the fade and the Chantry's long reach, they lived half lives the same as any tranquil.

So yes, Anders knew what it was like to be a slave.

As Anders walked through Lowtown, hunched against the pouring rain, he berated himself. He had tried to explain it all to Fenris before, but the elf refused to listen. Not that Anders could truly blame him, even if Justice did. Fenris had lived the other extreme. The magisters of Tevinter were used in the circles as a boogeyman. They were what happened when magic was allowed to run unchecked in the world. They and their ilk had caused the first blight. They were what happened when mages were allowed to explore the full extent of their power as they attempted to set themselves up as the Maker himself.

Anders had to believe that there was a compromise between the two extremes. Freedom for the mages, with a series of checks and balances in place to prevent the corrupt from unleashing another hell on earth.

It was getting harder to keep to his convictions.

Justice didn't believe in compromise. There was no justice in it. To compromise was to admit defeat. Justice gave no quarter. He did not discuss terms. Justice was swift to act.

Justice did not understand humans.

He did not understand the mortal capacity for emotions. Love, lust, loss. They were foreign feelings to the spirit. A being like Justice was never meant to feel these things and Anders was corrupting him.

More often than not, the two of them fought for control. They vied for dominance of one body, playing tug of war with something that was never to be pulled in so many ways. In his darkest moments, Anders could admit he was losing the fight. The things that Justice demanded from him... They scared the mage. Justice was relentless, hounding Anders' dreams and whispering in his mind during his waking moments. Where once Anders would have moments of peace, now he knew almost none.

_I've done this to myself_, he thought as he approached the Hanged Man. He knew that Marian saw it all. She missed nothing when it came to those she cared about. Last night as they had talked, she had gently broached the subject of Justice. Even after assuring her that they were fine, her worried eyes told him she didn't believe him.

But out of everyone she could have come to ask for help, she had chosen him. He was going to do everything in his power to be worthy of that trust. No child should be taken away from their mother. On this, he and Justice agreed.

Tonight was going to be the first test of her faith in him.

Anders pushed open the door to the Hanged Man and stood dripping in the doorway. He pulled his hair tie out and ran his fingers through the blonde locks, squeezing out the water before tying it back again. He slipped off his coat and shook the water from it, earning a glare from a man seated near the door. He was stalling and he knew it. This wasn't going to be pleasant, no matter Marian's assurances.

They had arranged for Anders to come late to their weekly game of Wicked Grace in Varric's room. It would give Marian time to gently tell everyone her condition. Then Anders was suppose to show up and they would announce his role as the father.

Easy peasy.

Anders strode across the bar's main floor and rolled his eyes. Marian had more faith in their friends than Anders did. At least when it came to something like this. Nevermind that it would mean that Marian could no longer take jobs anymore-not that she needed to-but Anders wasn't exactly everyone's favorite person.

Where Marian was.

As he approached Varric's room, ignoring as always the tacky floor of the Hanged Man making his boots stick, he realized how quiet it was. His fingers twitched towards the staff on his back as he carefully walked to the door. Regardless of what he and Marian planned tonight, there should be at least some sort of sound emanating from Varric's room. Isabela's laughter, Merrill's innocent questions, and Varric's voice, telling them all a story to make them laugh and not pay attention to the cards in their hands; all the things that were part of the normal flow of a night of Wicked Grace. The silence was unnerving.

As he reached the door, he hesitated, his eyes narrowing. Varric's room was too small for him to wield his staff with any efficiency. His right hand twitched again and an electrical charge began to flicker between his fingers. He touched the handle with his left hand and gently opened the door, his magic primed hand behind his back. Muscles tense, he pushed into the room.

The first thing he saw was the horrified faces of all of his friends turned towards him as they sat at Varric's table. The first thing he heard was Marian screaming his name. His brain processed all of this in a heartbeat, along with wondering where Fenris was.

He found out when the world exploded into chaos.

Anders slammed into a wall inside the room. His vision was swamped with forest green eyes narrowed in rage. He barely registered the flash of a blue glow before agony made him scream. His eyes rolled in his head and he clawed feebly at the arm that was buried wrist deep inside him. The spell on his hand winked out as he lost concentration.

_His hand is on my heart_, Anders thought. _Oh, Maker. I can feel it. I can _feel _it! _He could feel the organ stuttering in panic and pain. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to breath.

Fenris leaned in as he held Anders against the wall with his hand on his heart. His breath ghosted over the mage's cheek as he hissed out, "I've told you before, mage, you can't control yourself." His fingers gave a little squeeze and Anders cried out in pain. "Did your demon tell you to do this to her? Or was this your idea?"

"St...stop..." Anders gasped out. But it was too late. His skin seemed to crack with an answering luminescence of its own and his eyes flashed with living lightening.

"I am no demon!" Justice cried.

Fenris bared his teeth at Justice. "I see a demon claims to be stand for justice." He threw his free hand behind him and gestured where Marian stood. "Where is the justice in what you have let happen!" He vaguely heard Marian talking to him franticly as he stared at mage whose life he held in his hand.

When Marian had told them her news, Fenris had known immediately who was responsible. An apostate from who-knows-where with nothing to his name. He knew it when Marian hedged in telling them who the father was. He knew it when she wouldn't look Fenris in the eye.

Marian had saved him. Or at least was trying to. Without her, he never would have known what having someone care about you was like. Who he was today, was because of her and her unflinching belief that Fenris was so much more than just a slave. She deserved someone who would take care of her as she took care of others. Someone who would be a lifemate and helpmate in the ways that she needed. Not a mage who ran from everything in his life.

He saw Anders' hands start to crackle with blue fire and he sneered at the demon. "Do you think you can kill me before I crush his heart?" Fenris asked. "I'll die knowing I saved Marian from grief when he runs from his responsibilities once again." He felt fingers weave into his hair and give a pull. He turned and snarled.

"Stop," Marian whispered, her fingers tangled into his hair. "If you do this, Fenris..."

"I'll take your hate," Fenris snapped.

"This will hurt me far more than anything you imagine Anders can do," she said. Her hand in his hair forced him to look at her. "I will lose two people I care about. She let go of his hair, her hand slipping gently out. She spoke to him slowly, like a wild animal and it shamed him that she of all people would have to do that.

He turned back to Anders. Justice had banked the fire on his hands when he saw they were at an impasse. "This isn't over, elf," Justice said.

"Someday I will save us all the trouble and put your pet mage down," Fenris told him as he pulled his hand free of Anders, letting him slip to the floor. He took a step back, moving away from Anders as if he was something best avoided in the gutters of Darktown.

"I'll be watching you, mage," he warned Anders.

Anders couldn't stop shaking. He had never felt pain like that before. The crawling feeling of having someone's _hand_ inside you like that... When Justice had taken over, Anders had known blessed relief as he had slid gratefully into the darkness. He coughed and shuddered. "This will be different from any other time you watch me, then?" He couldn't look at Fenris. The elf had almost killed him. Anders had always known that Fenris was capable of it, but to finally experience it.

_Now do you see why your infatuation is so foolish? He will never see you as anything more than a dog that needs to be put down._

Anders wished he could blame that thought on Justice, but it was all his own. There was something poetic about Fenris having Anders' heart in his hand, but right now, Anders couldn't summon up energy to make the joke, even to himself.

_Less poetic, more pitiful, _he thought. _Ah, there I go, joke made._

He pushed himself to his feet and finally looked up. No one made a move to help him and Fenris took another step back, his lips curled in disgust.

_We are the same!_ Anders wanted to yell at the elf. Both of them were so damaged. But Marian seemed to collect the damaged. He looked to the others in the room. Varric had Bianca in his hands, a bolt loaded. Isabela's daggers and Aveline's sword were out, gleaming wickedly in the firelight. Merrill had her staff in her hands. Anders didn't know if they had prepared to save him from Fenris, or Fenris from Justice. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

_Best think they would have tried to help both of us_, he thought.

"I see you told them the good news, Marian," he quipped. He couldn't handle the silence anymore. He wanted to leave, but he still had a part to play and Marian had just saved his life again. He shuddered and leaned heavily against the wall behind him.

Merrill was the first one to speak up. "I love babies!" Everyone blinked, the tension shattered far better than Anders could have done it.

"Of course you do, Daisy," Varric muttered as he removed the bolt from Bianca and sat back down. Aveline, Merrill and Isabela took their cues from Varric and sheathed their weapons, sitting as well. He looked to Fenris who stared back at Anders, his hands clenching into fists, his gauntlets creaking.

Marian looked back and forth from Fenris and Anders as she slid towards the mage. "Yes! I had just finished telling them when you came and," she cleared her throat, "Isabela was trying to guess who the father was. I was waiting for you to come so we could tell them together." She slipped her arm around his waist and smiled brightly at Anders.

Fenris narrowed his eyes. Marian was smiling too brightly, the tone of her voice was off. Even the way she held herself next to the other mage was... Fenris tilted his head to the side. Something wasn't right. Oh, the movements were right, her arm around him, but she seemed to be holding herself away from him, even as she gave the illusion of gathering Anders close.

He half listened to Anders accept congratulations from the others. His eyes turned calculating as he instead watched the way the two mages acted towards each other. They were lying. Fenris knew this. He had spent what part of his life he could remember watching those around him. A slave who couldn't anticipate their master's moods or whims was a dead slave. He didn't know about what or why, but he knew they were lying.

Fenris didn't like being lied to.


	3. Chapter 3

Once again! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and put this story on their alerts!

I hope everyone is enjoying reading this as I have been writing it.

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><p>Marian placed the freshly rolled bandage into the basket at her feet. As she reached for another from the pile on the table next to her she sighed. Her fingers worked to roll the material into a compact bundle while her mind drifted.<p>

It had been a month since Anders had moved in with her and Marian was bored out of her mind. She had taken to coming with Anders to the clinic during the day for something to keep her mind occupied. She had lasted all of a week in her house before she went stir crazy. The years of adventure had taken their toll in unexpected ways. She was her father's daughter and idleness wasn't in their nature. One of her friends had to come with her whenever she left the house to prevent any trouble she might get into. Varric had put it best when he told her that she didn't seem to understand what the word 'no' meant. So many people wanted her help and input as the Champion of Kirkwall. It was help she could no longer afford to give. Her friends had become adapt at deflecting when someone approached her and it made Marian want to scream. She couldn't stay in her house for months on end, but neither could she risk going out in public. Varric had even taken to collecting her unopened mail for her. She trusted him to go through the missives and write the correct things. It was a skill she wished that she had learned long ago, instead of rushing off to help someone with their problem the moment she finished reading the last sentence of a letter.

Everyone wanted a piece of the Champion. Marian couldn't be what they needed right now... if ever again.

It had been Anders' suggestion to come help him at the clinic. Marian's lips twisted in a wry smile as she reached for another piece of linen. She wasn't a healer the way Anders was, her magic didn't manifest that way. She was grateful to him for the distraction and a place to hide from the nobles of Kirkwall, but she had discovered that rolling bandages was only _slightly_ less mind numbing than sitting in her house.

Until Fenris showed up.

The elf had come four days ago to the clinic and didn't seem ready to leave anytime soon. Anders choose to ignore him when it seemed that Fenris wasn't going to budge from his place on a pile of crates near the clinic door. He was there when they arrived in the morning and he followed them back to Hightown at night. In a quiet voice that brooked no argument, he told Marian he was there to keep her safe. She snorted at the memory. As if she was made out of glass now. All of her friends treated her like this. While it was touching they all worried for her and her safety, she couldn't help but be agitated. It was as if the past few years hadn't happened and none of them remembered the fights they had been in together, the places and things they had seen. She had found a strength in Kirkwall and now she felt being pregnant had stripped that from her.

Bile bubbled in her throat and she sat very still while breathing shallowly. She was grateful for them all and what they were doing for her. But she was only two months pregnant and still hadn't completely come to terms with it yet. Marian had never thought she would be a mother. It was something for other women. It was something for the kind of woman her mother had always wanted her to be. It wasn't that she had never wanted to be one, she had just assumed it would never be her. The life that she lived wasn't conducive for being pregnant, let alone raising a child. The game Anders and her were playing was proof of that.

She felt a twinge of guilt and looked over at him. He had his back turned to her, bent over a nasty gash in a woman's leg. He worked too hard and it was starting to kill him. Marian could see it in his too pale skin and the way his clothes were starting to hang on him. He was at the clinic every day and sometimes well into the night. When he wasn't here he was working with the mage underground. He refused to tell her anything about it beyond what little she already knew. It pained her not to help when he was doing so much for her.

No one mentioned Fenris' attack on Anders at the Hanged Man. Maybe it was because everyone had been waiting years for just such a confrontation. At least, Marian hoped that was what it was. Anders refused to talk about it beyond flashing her a smile that didn't reach his eyes-something she was seeing more and more often-and telling her that it was nothing more than what he had expected.

Maker... She had expected more of their friends.

She glanced at Fenris out of the corner of her eyes. He sat with his greatsword between his knees, his claw tipped gauntlets wrapped around the hilt. He wasn't fooling anyone and she wondered how long this was going to go on before one of them said something. He was there to make sure Anders didn't step out of line. It wasn't for her sake, not the way he thought it was. The tension between Anders and Fenris had been ratcheting up since the first morning they had found him waiting for them at the door to the clinic.

_This was a mistake_, she thought. _I shouldn't have brought Anders into this._ She knew what this was doing to him. For so long Fenris seemed resigned to Anders place in their little group. He kept silent for the most part, confining his comments to well placed glares sent the mage's way. Now he was using Marian as an excuse for free reign in his treatment of Anders.

She hated it.

But she had no choice.

She still hadn't told Carver about her condition. She didn't want to step foot in the Gallows for fear she would see _him_. She was afraid to write to her brother on the off chance he told her child's father of her pregnancy and he put two and two together.

Barely a month in and Marian was already feeling her house of cards shuddering under its own weight. She hadn't thought this through as well as she had hoped. But now she was committed, and when Marian Hawke committed, she didn't back down.

Anders finished healing the gash in the woman's leg. She didn't say so, but he was sure it was from a knife, the edges looked too clean and the wound too deep. He no longer cared to find out why his patients came to him. At first he had driven he and Justice crazy while he attempted to single handily right all of Darktown's wrongs. It was a losing fight and one he had to close his eyes to. He wiped the blood off his hands in a bowl of dingy water next to him as the woman slipped out, a muttered thanks on her lips. Thank the Maker. She was the last of the day.

He stared down at the bowl of water, lingering over its murky depths. He could feel Fenris' eyes on him, boring into Anders' back. Anders gritted his teeth. Andraste's tits! It was like being back in the fucking circle. Was this his life? Was someone with a greatsword over his neck always to be there? He took a deep breath and flicked his eyes over to Marian. Her face had changed to a slightly greenish cast and she held herself so still, Anders wasn't sure if she was breathing.

"Marian?" He turned towards her and she held up her hand.

"I'm fine. I-" She gagged and stood up, slapping a hand over her mouth and knocking over the basket of rolled bandages. "Excu-" She gagged again and ran towards the back of the clinic. Anders winced when he heard a door slam shut and the sound of vomiting echoed out.

"You've poisoned her, mage." Anders whirled around to face Fenris. The elf had extinguished the lamp and shut the door to the clinic, preventing anymore patients from trickling in.

Anders crossed his arms and gave Fenris a mocking smile. "If you think that, then I worry for any woman you get pregnant. Do you need to tell me how babies are made? You see when a mommy elf and a daddy elf love each other very much..." Fenris growled as he strode towards Anders, his sword slung over one shoulder.

Anders hated it when Fenris did that. It did something to him to see all that dangerous power strolling towards him, lethal lines rolling with a swordsman's grace. Anders knew it said something sick about himself, but he didn't dare delve into what.

"Is that what happened with you and Hawke?" Fenris asked. "You loved each other so much that you ignored all of your healer training about basic contraception?" Anders didn't like the look in Fenris' eyes. He took a step back, which was a mistake. One didn't show hesitation like that to someone like Fenris. Anders had seen him strike off the heads of men who hesitated.

"You know how it is," Anders smiled, pulling himself upright. "You're in the moment and all good sense goes out the window. I've loved her for so long and she finally returned my feelings." He shrugged.

Fenris raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he drawled. "Tell me about it then? This magical night. None of us knew the two of you had even been together."

If Anders was good at anything-besides running-it was lying. He had learned the art at a young age and hadn't stopped yet. "We didn't know where it was going and didn't want everyone prying. Not that it's any of your business." He turned and picked up the bowl he used to wash his hands. Fenris grabbed Anders by the shoulder and swung him back around. Anders dropped the bowl, the water splashing at their feet.

"It's our business now, isn't it?" Fenris asked, his voice silk over steel. "Marian can't go out without one of us with her. She's trapped in her house or this," he gestured around him, "clinic."

Anders felt himself snap. "Why are you here, Fenris? And don't give me the bullshit you gave us four days ago." Fenris tightened his grip on Anders' shoulder, crushing the feathers on his coat.

"Don't play the fool with me, mage. You know why I'm here." He pulled in close, just like he had at the Hanged Man. This time, there wasn't the agony of his hand on Anders' heart and the mage fought not to shiver as the elf's breath whispered over his skin.

"I'm not leaving," Anders said. He was proud of himself that his voice remained so steady. "So you can fuck off."

Fenris chuckled, the sound as far from pleasant as it could get. "I don't think so. You see, I know you and Marian are up to something. If I know it, then the others will know it soon enough, as well. I've spent the past four days watching the two of you." White hair brushed against Anders' jaw, some of the strands catching on his stubble as the elf leaned in close. "Both of you are concealing something," he whispered, his tone caressing Anders' like a lover. The sound moved down the mage's spine, lodging in his cock and he shivered despite himself. Maker, Anders could listen to Fenris talk all day.

_Well if he's not berating me_, Anders thought. _That I could do without._ Many of Anders' prominent fantasies had featured that voice, whispering in Anders' ear as the elf took him roughly, telling Anders how good he felt, urging the mage to beg him for more.

_And how I would beg him_. The thought slipped across Anders' mind and felt felt Justice's disapproval. Justice was the only reason that Anders knew that Fenris wasn't here to hurt him, only threaten. If the spirit had thought Anders was in any real danger, he would have felt him trying to assert himself before now.

Something had changed in Anders. Fenris frowned, his lips brushing the mage's ear. There! It was an imperceptible shiver, a faint stiffening of Anders' shoulder under his hand. Fenris froze and pulled back slowly. He watched as the mage's throat worked while he swallowed. Fenris abruptly released Anders and took a step back, mimicking the mage's hesitation from earlier.

"Mage," his voice a warning growl. "Wh-" A door behind Anders creaked open, and Hawke's voice cut off anything that Fenris could say. "Maker I will be glad when the sickness part is over!"

Anders almost sagged in his relief when he felt Marian slip an arm around his waist. He turned to her, his eyes almost wild. "Feeling better?" Then, without letting her answer, "Right! Let's go home."

Marian sensed the tension in the room and she allowed Anders to lead her to the door and out into Darktown. She also didn't like the way Fenris was looking at him, like the elf just found a new puzzle he couldn't seem to reconcile with what he was seeing.

_Does he know?_ Marian thought. She fought to close her eyes against the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The feeling deepened when Fenris, for the first time in four nights, declined to walk with them back to Hightown.

Fenris watched them both walk away, his hands clenched into fists.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks once again for the reviews and alerts! The feedback from all of you have been wonderful.

A/N: In which Fenris hears more than he thinks he does.

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><p>It was an unfortunate truth that Fenris needed to consume more alcohol than a normal elf to get drunk. The wine trickled over his tongue and he closed his eyes in pleasure. As often as he'd had to serve Danarius the stuff, Fenris thought it only fair he got to finally drink it with abandon. His lips twitched in a feral smile as he pulled the bottle away. Swilling it like it was something you could get for two coppers at the Hanged Man only made it sweeter. Danarius had been so proud of his crystal goblets and the way the wine would shine inside them like rubies.<p>

He dropped his head back against the rotting cushion of his chair and stared at the ceiling. He hadn't seen Hawke or Anders in a week. The hand that held the wine slipped off the arm of the chair to dangle, while the other rapped out a nonsensical rhythm, the claws on his gauntlet gouging holes into the chair. Since he couldn't seem to get drunk with any reliability, Fenris was left to do what Varric always accused him of-brooding.

He didn't know what angered him more, that Hawke was hiding something from him, or that the mage seemed to be her accomplice. No matter the answer, he knew why it bothered him. Hawke had forced him over the years to examine himself. He had opened up to her in a way he had never before in recent memory. She had been there when he had crushed Hadriana's heart and had not judged him. He had been the one person that Fenris could rely on to never betray him or to lie to him. In a world where everyone that Fenris had come into contact with dealt in duplicity and cruelty, it had been everything to him. To think that Hawke was just like the rest...

He snarled and threw the wine bottle across the room. It shattered against a rust colored stain on the wall that acted as a target, to land in a growing pile of broken glass. A week ago he had wanted to blame the mage. In fact he had done so and readily. But thinking about Anders only led him to... think about Anders. He closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face. His gauntlets catching and pulling in his hair. If Fenris hadn't known better he would have said that Anders... what... Wanted him? Was attracted to him? He couldn't think of anything else to explain what had happened in the clinic.

And what had happened exactly? At its face value, nothing. But the tension that had spiked the air when Fenris had gotten close... He pushed himself to his feet and began to pace the room, going in a well worn circuit. It had been so subtle that Fenris was second guessing himself. If it had just been he himself that had felt it and not the mage, then that would mean...

He snarled again and slammed a fist into the wall, forcing himself to continue the thought he had been dancing around all week. It would be mean that he _wanted _the mage. It would mean that four days of watching Anders in the clinic, the way the dim light reflected off of his hair and turned it a burnished gold, or the pull of his healing magic on Fenris' brands, a low level strumming plying down the lines of his body... He slammed his fist into the wall again, rejecting the way his body had felt, the way it still remembered.

He refused this.

He _refused_.

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><p>Carver pushed open the door to Fenris' mansion. He wrinkled his nose at the musty smell that slammed into him. Maker, he could never understand how the elf could live like this. When Carver had joined the templars, Fenris had been the only one who had understood his reasons. The two of them had spoken many nights about it, passing a bottle of wine back and forth. So when he had received Marian's letter this morning, he hadn't gone directly to her like he wanted to. Instead, he came to the one person he knew would be straight with him.<p>

He didn't bother calling out to the Fenris to warn him he was there. The thing about templar armor was that it announced for you that you were coming. He climbed the stairs, sidestepping the rotting bodies. Fenris never had to defend the home he had appropriated. No thief would be crazy enough to try and break in, especially when there wasn't anything of value to tempt even the most stalwart of thieves. On the landing he saw firelight flickering out, sending shadows dancing. No wonder most people thought the place was haunted. Carver shivered. He half thought there might be truth in that.

"Ser Carver." Fenris had collected himself and was sitting back in his chair, another bottle of wine in his hand. He took a long pull and held it out towards the templar as he walked in and took a seat opposite the elf. "Dare I ask what has brought you here?"

"From the look on your face, I gather you're well aware of what has brought me here," Carver said. He took a drink to fortify himself. "I got a letter from Marian today. Seems that abomination has knocked her up. Oh, and he's living in our mother's house now." He rested his arms on his knees and passed the bottle back. "What in all the blighted deeps happened? Did he do this on purpose?"

"They say no," Fenris raised an eyebrow. "You seem to think otherwise?"

"Maker, yes!" Carver's eyes turned flinty. "I wouldn't put it pass him to get my sister pregnant. Why wouldn't he? He could have her money and the protection of the Champion of Kirkwall."

"I...I hadn't considered that," Fenris said. "But I don't think that's the case."

"Oh? When I told the Knight-Captain about it, you should have seen the look on his face. I think he was more shocked than I was." Carver gestured towards the bottle and Fenris gave it back to him. "He was asking me if Marian said how far along she was, and if anyone had known her and Anders were even sleeping together. You know, I wish you had told me, Fenris. I thought we were friends."

"We are friends, Carver. I didn't know either. Have you spoken with her yet?" Fenris' mind was working as he listened to Carver speak. Her brother hadn't known either. The elf knew that Carver and Hawke had a tempestuous relationship, especially since Carver had made the decision to become a templar. He didn't believe that Anders would get Hawke pregnant on purpose. That was stretching it, even for Fenris. The mage lacked the deviousness it would take to do something like that.

"Carver," Fenris interrupted him. "I don't think it was a plot. I genuinely believe this was an accident."

"Listen to you!" Carver smiled. "Defending the mage. He's an abomination, who knows what he would do."

"I'm not defending him!" Fenris snapped, sitting up in his chair, bristling. "I just don't think he would do that."

Carver's eyebrows climbed and he held out the almost empty bottle towards Fenris. "All right. If you don't think he would do that, then I believe you. You've been watching him for years, you would know better than anyone if he was capable of it."

Fenris paused, the bottle halfway to his lips. He _had_ been watching the mage for years. At first it had been for exactly the reason he had told Marian. Mage's were vipers waiting to strike when you let your guard down.

_What's your excuse now?_ he asked himself. He shook his head and drained the last of the wine.

"Go talk to her, Carver. I know no more than you do." He set the bottle carefully on the floor next his chair and got to his feet. He wouldn't tell Carver his suspicions. He had nothing to tell. Hawke and Anders were acting off, but Fenris knew no more than that. The last thing he wanted was to tell Carver and have the templar go to his sister with wild theories.

No, this was something that Fenris had to figure out alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to everyone who is reviewing, putting this story on their alerts, or is just plain reading it!

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><p>There were times that Anders didn't know what he hated more. The templars or the blighted Deep Roads. He worked at the stiffness still in his jaw that magic couldn't quite seem to take away. He should be grateful that Carver had taken his gauntlets off before striding into the Amell estate and clocking the mage. That was it. No words, no warning other than the heavy clatter of full plate, before Anders turned at Marian's scream to see a fist flying towards him. Things went downhill after that. Justice was not pleased to see a templar, no matter who he was, hitting Anders. Carver wasn't pleased that Anders was there at all, while Marian was unhappy her brother had decided to barge into her home and assume the role of protective brother. Between Anders wrestling with Justice for control and Marian yelling at her brother for being an ass, no one came out of it looking well.<p>

He clenched his hands tighter around his staff, his eyes searching the shadows. How _did_ he let Varric talk him into these things? He hated the Deep Roads, and yet, here he was, walking through the blighted place. One would think he missed the darkspawn, the death, and the damned terror. They were Anders' 'Three D's of the Deep Roads', something he pulled out to remind himself that yes, being with the wardens had been _that _bad at times. How dwarves still lived so close to the place was beyond him and he said as much to Varric.

"Don't ask me, Blondie. I'm not seeing the appeal either. Dwarves are stubborn that way, I think. Plus the money, can't forget that. Mining lyrium is good business." He had Bianca in his hands, bolt already loaded and ready.

"Next time you ask me for a favor I'm running in the opposite direction," Anders told him. "Get use to seeing this fine ass of mine." Anders couldn't seem to make himself stop since they entered the Deep roads. His mouth seemed to move faster than his brain could process. He blamed the stress of Justice and the insistent scratching of the taint in his mind.

_Two's company, three's a crowd_, he thought. Over the past several months, Anders had finally begun to admit to himself that he was becoming unhinged. He was losing track of time in greater and longer patches, with no memory of what he might have said or done. Luckily, he had yet to do it around any one else yet, although he knew Marian was becoming suspicious. He would stay up at all hours of the night writing his manifesto, more often than not falling asleep at the desk. Marian had asked him why his handwriting seemed to lurch back and forth from two distinctly different styles once. He had been able to change the subject, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to hide it from her for long.

_I just have to hold it together until she doesn't need me anymore_, he promised himself.

"You're the one that insisted on coming," Varric reminded him. "I have to go, Varric. You don't understand the kind of trouble Nate can get into, the noble ass," he mimicked. "Can't blame this one on me, Blondie."

"Will you two be quiet?" Fenris had stopped and turned to look at the two of them. "I for one, would like to not attract every darkspawn in the vicinity." His brands were glowing, illuminating the rubble around them with a soft light.

"If only it worked that way," Anders' said, his eyes darting around the cavern. "How much easier would it be to bypass the darkspawn all together if we were just _quiet_. Just think on how many lives we could have saved during the last blight." He opened his mouth to say more, while his brain was telling him to _shut up_ and stop agitating the elf. Fenris was the living shield between Varric, Anders' and any darkspawn they came across.

_More like a battering ram,_ he thought. _Aveline is the shield._

"You shouldn't even be here, mage. Is this how you're planning on escaping from your responsibilities? By dying?" It was almost a reflex at this point-insulting Anders. It had started the moment they had descended into the Deep Roads, and Anders had made his first quip about 'watching where one stepped, darkspawn didn't care about shitting and eating in the same spot'. Fenris had gritted his teeth in irritation and the mage hadn't shut up since. Varric, of course, thought it was hilarious.

"If neither of you are going to take this seriously, then I suggest we leave and tell that woman her brother is lost." He turned his back on Varric and Anders and started to walk away. "Maybe you can explain to her how being in the Deep Roads was far too funny to rescue someone," he called back.

Varric shot Anders a sardonic smile. "Broody seems a might tense, Blondie. I mean, more than usual."

"We like him tense, remember? It makes for more hacking and slashing of the things trying to eat you and me," Anders said as he followed after the elf.

The dwarf chuckled. "No truer words have been spoken. You know, I almost think he-" Whatever Varric had been about to say was cut off when Anders abruptly stopped. The mage closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, his knuckles white as he clenched his staff.

"Maker..." he breathed. Anders took off after Fenris, Varric right behind him. The elf had disappeared around a corner.

The corner that had darkspawn waiting.

_Stupid. Stupid!_ he thought, his heart pounding in terror. He could feel them now, clawing at his mind, a scrabbling itch that became stronger the closer he got. Flames burst to life down his hands and arms and Anders pushed them up his staff, collecting fire in a tight ball of power at its tip. He rounded the corner and heard Fenris shout. He didn't stop to think, just swung his staff and launched the fireball at the nearest darkspawn. It screamed and flew back, engulfed in flames. Anders heard its dying screech in his mind and winced. "I _hate_ the Deep Roads!" he yelled, drawing from the fade to collect more fire.

Fenris was surrounded by darkspawn. Anders kept one eye on him as the warrior swung his sword in a high arc, severing the head of one darkspawn and taking the arm of another. Tainted blood sprayed over him. Fenris was covered in the stuff already. His white hair blackening with rapidly congealing blood. It dripped down his face and neck, and Anders felt his gut clench in fear.

_Not Fenris_, he thought. He put his terror into his next spell. Fire roared out of his staff, a wave of scorching death. Next to him he could hear the snap of Bianca's string as Varric shot into the mass surrounding Fenris. Amidst the chaos, Anders heard another bow being let loose, this one quicker. He glanced around as much as he dared, taking his eyes off the fight and the elf who was keeping all of the attention on him. He spotted Nate high on a boulder letting loose arrow after arrow into the mob.

Justice shifted inside Anders, recognizing Howe. He could feel the spirit's apprehension and Anders felt a fissure of fear. Neither of them had thought passed rescuing Nate. They hadn't thought on what the man would say once he saw Anders again. Anders had left the wardens, an organization with no out clause.

He had left in a shower of body parts and blood.

Fenris was death come to the Deep Roads. He faded in and out of the here and now, standing between the waking world and the fade, a ghost that showed no mercy. Blades and claws passed through him before he would solidify, his sword hacking deep. One of his ribs was broken from a lucky strike, each panting breath he took, agony. He felt a wave of healing energy wash over his body, his bone knitting itself back together. His brands flared brighter the spell running along them like a lover's caress. He raged at the inappropriate sensation, and his next swing had more power behind it, taking down three darkspawn at once.

Anders rushed over to Fenris when the last darkspawn fell and reached into his pack for a skin of water. "Are you cut?" he asked, dousing a bandage. Fenris turned flinty eyes on Anders. He grabbed at the wet cloth and wiped at his face before Anders could.

"No. Save your concern for your friend, mage." Fenris was still on a high from the battle The adrenaline that had fueled him still running through his veins and sending his heart and mind to racing. He was fighting a different battle now, and he swiped vigorously at himself, as if he could remove the memory of what Anders' magic had done to him from his skin.

"I think Anders should be saving his concern for himself," Nate said. He walked over to Anders picking up arrows that had missed their marks on the way. "It seems like he doesn't know he's suppose to be dead."

Anders' mouth opened and closed a few times before he cleared his throat. "Nate, I can explain."

"Really..." Nate drawled as he crossed his arms, standing as if he had all the time in the world to listen to Anders. "_This_ I have got to hear. Or better yet, why don't I just take you back to Vigil's Keep? You can explain it to all of us, this way you won't have to repeat yourself."

"We don't have time for this," Fenris snapped. "We need to leave." He wanted to get out of here and as far away from Anders as he could. He couldn't seem to think with the mage near him.

"Broody's right," said Varric. "We've pushed our luck, time to get out while the cards are still good. Besides, Hawke will be worried, Blondie."

"Hawke?" Nate asked as he turned to Varric, his eyes sharp.

"Blondie's girlfriend? No, that sounds too sweet. Hawke would hate it," Varric said to himself.

Fenris rolled his eyes, his patience-or what little he had- at an end. "The mother of Anders' child. Now let's go." He ran the soiled bandage down the length of his sword, but stopped when Nate laughed. "What? That's impossible!"

Fenris' head jerked up and he saw Anders grow pale. The mage shook his head. "Nate, don-" What Nate said next, stopped Anders better than anything Fenris had said to him since they had entered the Deep Roads.

"Warden's can't have children. We're sterile."

And then everything clicked into place.

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><p>AN: I know that there is some debate on whether wardens can have children. There seems to be a very small possibility, if the woman is not a warden, but the father is. For this fic's purposes it is impossible.


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry this chapter took so long. It was important that this one turned out just right.

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><p>The trek back to the surface was long and silent. Fenris' rage simmered, heating to a rich anger. The Deep Roads was no place for explanations, no matter how badly they needed to be said. The moment the four of them hit the surface and took their first breath of fresh air in hours, Fenris felt his control snap. He grasped handfuls of Anders' coat in his fists and slammed the mage into a rocky cliff. Air whooshed out of Anders' lungs and he dropped his staff in surprise.<p>

"Talk," was all the elf said. Anders closed his eyes in resignation only to have Fenris shake him, his head smacking against the stone to his back.

"TALK!" Fenris screamed into Anders' face.

Varric caught Nathaniel by the arm and shook his head. "Don't. Blondie is fine unless one of them starts glowing." He let Nate go and hefted Bianca. "Not much you or I can do if that happens, though."

"Then why wait?" Nate asked, unslinging his bow.

"Because I want to hear Blondie's answer," Varric replied. "Broody isn't the only one owed an explanation."

Fenris leaned in towards Anders. The mage could smell the tang of tainted blood on the elf. Some of it was crusting on Fenris' face and hair, small spots he had missed in his hurried cleaning. He noticed how the elf's markings were flaring, casting Fenris' features into a demonic light.

No matter how often he had dreamed about Fenris allowing himself to be this close to the mage, Anders couldn't summon up the energy to enjoy it. He felt defeated. In only a little more than a month, Anders had already been found out. How was he to protect Hawke and her child if he couldn't even last this long? No wonder the damned templars always found him when he escaped the circle. Anders had been fooling himself in thinking he was going to be any good at this.

"I don't know what to say," Anders whispered. He reached up and gingerly touched the back of his head, feeling a lump beginning to form. He sent a trickle of healing magic and the pain eased before disappearing.

Fenris bared his teeth at Anders, his markings flashing in response to the to healing magic and his close proximity. Why was this happening? Anders' magic had always pulled on the lyrium brands. It was something that he had never told another. It was why he hated to be near a mage when they were practicing their craft. Danarius use to use it as a way to make Fenris uncomfortable, or to cause him pain. It had never felt this good before, though. The thought slipped in and out of Fenris' mind and his fingers twitched on Anders' coat, tearing holes in the thick fabric. "How about the truth? Are you capable of doing that, mage?" The fabric on Anders coat tore some more as Fenris tightened his grip further. "You aren't the father of Hawke's baby, are you?"

Anders licked lips suddenly gone dry. He couldn't meet Fenris' eyes as he shook his head. "_Look_ at me," Fenris hissed. Reluctantly, Anders lifted his gaze, and met Fenris' stoney stare. "Why?" A muscle in Fenris' jaw jumped as he bit back the rest of what he wanted to say. _Why did they lie to me? _He had trusted Hawke, but she had obviously not trusted him.

"The father of Hawke's baby is a templar." Varric cursed softly and Anders flicked his eyes towards him before looking back. "She won't tell me who. She's afraid if the child shows signs of magic, it will be taken from her." Anders shift as much as he was able to get away from a rock that was digging into his back.

"A templar?" Fenris' eyebrows drew down sharply, something teasing the back of his mind. He was finding it hard to think with Anders so close. The smell of elfroot, lyrium and Anders' own scent assaulted his senses. He pushed away from the mage and started to pace, working off the nervous and unwelcome energy to clear his head.

"What do you know, Broody?" Varric asked.

"Carver came to see me last night," Fenris said. He stopped and turned to face the other three. He began to click the tips of his gauntlet together in a pattern, while he absently chewed on the knuckle of his other hand. Anders had noticed a long time ago, that the more Fenris fidgeted, the more irritated he was. It was as if all the agitation just under the elf's skin was forcing him to move.

Anders blinked. "Carver? He came by this morning." He rubbed at his jaw in memory. "So I have you to thank for calming him down before he hit me?"

The elf's fingers clicked faster. "As if I could have talked the man down. But that wasn't why I brought it up. He mentioned something to me, at the time it had just seemed like an idle piece of information, but now..." Fenris stopped moving, his arms going lax at his sides. "He told me the Knight-Captain wanted to know how far along Marian was. In fact, he had seemed very concerned about it."

"Andraste's taint!" Anders breathed. "The Knight-Captain is one step below the Knight-Commander. What was she thinking?" He slid down the cliff side and sat on the ground, eyes wide.

"I'd venture to say she wasn't," Nathaniel interjected. He shrugged when all eyes turned on him. "Look, I only know of Marian Hawke by reputation-the Knight-Commander as well. One doesn't get pregnant by Meredith's second lightly. By all accounts, Meredith is a strict task master that doesn't like to see her mages or her templars step out of line. If the Knight-Captain had a child, a wife, do you think she would tolerate that?"

"That's why she wouldn't tell me?" Anders muttered. "Damn it, Hawke."

Varric laughed. "Oh, I think she didn't tell you because of your friend." Anders knew the dwarf was right. Already he was fighting with Justice as the spirit raged inside him. Anger that wasn't his own surged through him and he gritted his teeth. "Thanks for pointing that out, Varric," he said.

"Friend?" Nathaniel asked. Anders felt Justice give a huge push in response and shunted his consciousness to the side. _This day was just getting better and better_, he thought as he slipped into darkness.

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><p>The first thing that Anders noticed was that he smelled smoke. It wafted with a light breeze and fluttered over his face. He snapped his eyes open and saw stars. Hundreds of billions of stars. It wasn't the night sky of Kirkwall he was looking at, he realized. He lifted his hands to his face, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw no traces of blood.<p>

"You're awake." Anders let Fenris' voice wash over him.

"What did I do," Anders asked. Ignorance is bliss, but when it came to a spirit taking control, one needed to know if there was a body count.

"What did _he_ do?" Fenris restated. "Talked to Howe, mostly." Fenris wasn't going to tell the mage what choice words he had for the demon when he had appeared.

Anders closed his eyes in relief and sat up. They were still near the entrance to the Deep Roads, but night had fallen. Fenris sat on the ground a few feet away, a small fire crackling in front of him. "Varric and Nate..."

"Back to Kirkwall. I told them I would stay until you awakened." Fenris picked up a stick and stabbed at the fire, sending sparks shooting up into the night. "Howe wouldn't go until he was sure I wouldn't hurt you... or allow you to run." His gave Anders a humorless smile. "Wonderful friend you have."

"You don't know the half of it," Anders said as he stood up and walked over to the fire.

"You're right, I don't." Fenris looked away from Anders and stared into the fire. He could see the mage sit down in his periphery. "Justice and Howe seem to know you better than we do," he said idly.

It had bothered Fenris, hearing the two of them talk after Nathaniel had gotten over his shock. He had known that Anders was a Grey Warden, but he had never really thought before what that had meant. It showed the Fenris a different side to the mage that he hadn't wanted to see before. While he waited for Anders to awaken, he couldn't seem to let it go. If he was being honest with himself, he would say that he had never wanted to see anything more of Anders than the apostate that had allowed a demon in him. He was a blind mage on a mission, that would at best destroy him, at worst, cause untold chaos. So he took what he had seen of Anders recently and held that up for scrutiny instead. Anders had started a free clinic for the lowest in Kirwall. He gave of himself and asked for nothing in return. He had been there for Marian, courting the wrath of her friends. He also had been a Grey Warden and- from little he could glean from the conversation of the demon and Howe-had saved many lives at the risk of his own.

Fenris did not like what it said about himself.

He was beginning to understand why Hawke hadn't turned to him instead of Anders. Fenris couldn't begin to understand her position. He knew what the pain of having a child pulled away from a loving mother looked like. He had seen it many times in Tevinter. He had seen the women weeping, wailing as their children were snatched from their arms, never to be seen again.

Fenris sucked in a quick breath. Maybe he knew more than either he or Hawke had thought.

"I wouldn't say either Justice or Nate know me," Anders said. "At least, Nate doesn't know me anymore." He absently waved a hand, looking for the right words. "I'm not the same person that Nate knew. I use to be frivolous and selfish. The only times I ever risked myself was to save my own skin or to get away from the templars." He gave Fenris a wry smile. "Now I'm sneaking into the damned Gallows and snatching mages right from under Meredith's nose."

"So you never risked yourself for another when you were a warden?" Fenris asked despite himself. He found he was curious about Anders in a way that he hadn't been before.

"I... I guess I did." Anders looked surprised. "Justice seemed to think I was hiding myself away and ignoring the plight of my brethren. We use to talk about it... before..."

"Before you allowed the dem- spirit inside you," Fenris finished. He reached down and snapped a few sticks, tossing them into the fire. He watched the flames licking at the newly added wood. "Why?"

"Excuse me?" Anders asked.

"Why did you allow Justice inside you?" Fenris knew what he had thought was the explanation. Anders had done it for the same reason as any mage who took a demon inside them. He had done it for power. Now, Fenris wasn't so sure. If Anders wanted power, why had he been living in Darktown when they had found him, helping the poor and the forgotten?

Anders had only ever told Hawke the barest bones of his story, and didn't know how to answer Fenris. Something had changed in the elf. This was the longest conversation they'd had that hadn't led to accusations and insults. He wanted to tell Fenris as much as he never wanted anyone to find out what he had done. His heart pounding in his chest, he began to talk.

Fenris listened, only occasionally making an encouraging noise to urge Anders on. What he heard turn his blood cold. The joining between Justice and Anders had not gone well and the mage had woken up in a slaughterhouse. Blood and flesh had been spread all over, coating Anders hands and face.

"It was the taste of blood in my mouth that was the worse part. I had killed those meant to take me back to the circle. It didn't matter to them that I had been conscripted into the wardens. The moment the Warden-Commander's back was turned, they tried to take me." Anders began to shake in remembrance. "I didn't think it would be like that. I just wanted... I just wanted to be free."

"I killed a whole tribe of fog warriors that had given me shelter and freedom. It was the first time I had run from Danarius. He found me after only a few months of freedom and ordered me to slaughter the first people who had ever shown me kindness." The confession was pulled out of Fenris in a whisper, a truth for a truth. "I did as be bade me. It felt... inevitable."

They both sat in silence, listening to the night sounds. Neither one of them wanted to be the first to say something. Both of their confessions seemed too raw for any further words-the moment between the two of them too surreal.


	7. Chapter 7

A big thank you to everyone that has been reviewing, putting this story on their alerts and reading!

A/N: This is officially the longest chapter so far!

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><p>Marian was already sleeping when Anders returned home. Dawn had begun to lighten the sky by the time he and Fenris had made it back to Kirkwall. Anders felt too raw to go and find Nate. Howe knew where Anders was now, and Anders needed sleep to clear his brain for the argument that was due between them.<p>

Fenris hadn't been very forthcoming when Anders had pressed him on what Justice and Nate had talked about. He'd only told Anders that the two of them had argued over taking Anders back to Vigil's Keep. Nathaniel seemed determined to drag the mage back to the wardens, and Justice was determined to keep Anders right where he was.

Neither had thought to consult with Anders on what he wanted.

Anders slipped his coat off and ran his fingers over the holes that Fenris had made. One of the side skills of being a healer was that Anders knew how to sew-he just wasn't sure if he was going to be able to salvage his coat without large patches. He carefully draped his coat over a chair and grimaced. He also wasn't sure if he could clean his coat well enough for it to be wearable. The Deep Roads were not conducive for keeping anything clean. Maybe he would give Bodahn a crack at it.

Anders sighed and scrubbed at his face with his palms. He could only hope that when Marian found out how badly Anders had failed, that she could see pass her anger long enough to realize that it was better this way. Anders was only one man, and he didn't have the contacts that some of their friends had. They should have told them a long time ago.

As he unlaced his shirt, Anders smiled to see that his bedroll was already laid out on the floor. He and Marian had thought it would seem suspicious if they weren't sleeping in the same room. That hadn't meant that they needed to share a bed.

He really needed to bathe, but he was too exhausted and the floor was beginning to look like a feather bed. Even Justice seemed to sense that Anders was in no emotional state to deal with him, and left the mage alone. He had done so as Anders and Fenris had talked as well, and Anders wondered at it.

He reached down to grasp the hem of his shirt when he heard the crash. He turned towards the closed door, even as Marian bolted upright in bed. Bodahn began to shout, yelling at someone that they couldn't just barge into the Champion's house like this.

"Anders," Marian whispered as she slipped out of the bed. They stared at each other across the room, both flinching when they heard the sound of plate mail. Marian began to tremble before she squared her shoulders and started for the door.

"No!" he gasped. He reached out and grabbed her arm, the silk of her blue nightgown almost slipping through his fingers. "Let me... let me look first." Bodahn's shouting was joined by others. Marian waited a heartbeat before nodding. She pressed her hands to her abdomen and took a step back from the door.

Carefully, Anders walked to the door and squatted down in front of it. He chewed on his bottom lip, and caught his breath as he cracked the door open. He eased it open as far as he dared and slipped out of the room at a crawl. He slid along the floor, moving towards the banister. Marian's house was so open, that if Anders was very lucky, he might be able to see who was down there-and how many.

Before he could get close enough, he felt the smite. Anders jerked to a stop and muffled his gasp against his arm. The smite slammed into him and cut off his access to the fade. He hadn't felt one in so long, that Anders was disorientated. The smite wasn't the work of one templar, it had encompassed the whole house.

_Too many_, Anders thought as he scrambled back towards Marian's room. He didn't feel any reply from Justice and began to panic. The spirit wasn't a demon and the smite had effectively pushed Justice down. Anders felt the empty place where the spirit usually resided and knew true fear. Anders couldn't fight without his magic and he was no match for a group of templars without Justice. The ones at Vigil's Keep that had tried to take him so long ago hadn't thought that a healer would be any problem. They hadn't bothered with cutting off Anders from the fade.

He couldn't let them take Marian. She had never been in a circle before and would fight them. Fighting your fate in the circle only made the punishment worse. They would try and break her, and with Marian's spirit, they would end up killing her or making her tranquil instead.

Once back in the room, he shut the door behind him and bolted it, fumbling with the lock with hands gone numb. He turned towards Marian, both of their eyes wide. "Templars," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Too many of them. Did you feel the smite?"

Marian nodded, her hands clutching at her nightgown. "We need to leave." She swallowed, her spine straightening and she lost some of the fear in her face. "We need to leave out the passage. Bodahn can't hold them off for long." She dropped to her knees and reached under the bed, snagging the pack she had prepared for just this very thing.

Anders walked to the fireplace and ran his fingers along the mantle. He pressed at a slight indentation in the stone and took a step back. The fireplace swung out on well oiled hinges, opening to reveal a spiraling staircase that led down. Marian had thought of everything when she had renovated this house. Her mother had assured her that there was no reason to have an escape route anymore, but Marian had grown up on the run from the templars. Her father had taught her too well to relax.

He grabbed his coat from the chair and slipped into it. "You go first," he said. Marian didn't bother with getting dressed pass putting her shoes on. She grabbed her staff and a candle and moved down the first few steps of the passage. They could hear the metal clanking of the templars as they ran up the stairs.

"We'll send Varric a message in a few days," she said. "He'll know what to do." The shadows began to deepen and she spun around just in time to see the fireplace close.

"Run, Marian. I'll delay them for as long as I can," Anders said as Marian was plunged into near darkness-alone.

"Anders!" She pounded on the stone, screaming his name. The fireplace only opened one way to prevent anyone from using the passage to get into the house. She reached for her magic, only to be blocked. She turned and started running down the stairs. She had to get to Varric.

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><p>Anders awoke in the dark. This time he didn't have the stars above him, only stifling blackness. Pain racked his body, and he rolled over on his side on the cold, stone floor, curling in on himself. The templars had broken down the door to Marian's room and surrounded him. There had been too many for them to fit inside the room, and Anders had been encircled by a cage of steel. When the first blow had come, Anders had fought them. He may have been without his magic or Justice, but he was going to be damned if they found him cowering. Before he had blacked out, Anders realized they had not once asked where Marian was.<p>

_They hadn't been there for her,_ he thought. They had finally cornered the aposate of Darktown.

Anders tried to reach for the fade, only to come up against a wall. He closed his eyes, a futile gesture in the all encompassing darkness. Most circles had prison cells built especially for mages. The magic that went into creating one was so old and such a carefully guarded secret, that Anders didn't think very many were capable of doing it anymore. He had spent a year of his life in the Ferelden circle inside such a cell. Lined with runes and seeped in magic, the cells cut off a mage's access to the fade. It was a perpetual smite, almost guaranteeing that the mage inside could not escape.

They also couldn't heal their wounds or defend themselves.

Anders gingerly slid his hands down his body, taking inventory of his injuries. He shivered, naked and cold while he cataloged two broken ribs and a multitude of bruises and swellings. His nose was broken as well and blood crusted over his face and lips.

The darkness of the cell taunted Anders, his mind hurtling back to the year he had spent in isolation. _They hadn't broken me then, I will not allow them to break me now_, he promised himself. But he'd had Mr. Wiggums before. There was no cat coming to keep him company in the Gallows.

He shivered, his broken ribs screaming in pain with each breath he took. As long as Marian was safe, Anders would count this as worth it. He had promised her he would help protect her child. Giving her a chance to get away before the templars found the exit behind the fireplace, had been the only option. Anders' phylactery had been destroyed and Marian had never had one, but the templars wouldn't need one to find them. They would have torn the house apart and hurt Orana, Bodahn and his son until they told them where Marian and Anders were.

_But they hadn't been after Hawke, had they? _he told himself. His hands clenched into fists. No. They had been after Anders. Because of him, Marian had to flee her home. He could only hope she had done as he asked and ran. Maybe if she got to the others they could come and-

No. He couldn't assume there was any rescue forthcoming. Even Anders hadn't been able to get into these cells to free the mages inside. The others didn't have his knowledge of the escape routes out of the Gallows that he had. He had only himself to rely on.

_The scenery is different, but all the circles are the same. If I could get out of one, I can get out of another._

Anders knew the layout to the Gallows like the back of his hand. He just had to be patient and survive long enough. He would get his chance-if his mouth didn't get him killed first.

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><p>Marian burst into Varric's room in the Hanged Man wearing nothing but a blue nightgown and a pair of muddy shoes. Her hair was tangled and dust clung to the dark strands in patches. She looked crazed and she knew it. Varric and Isabela both rose to their feet as she came in. A man with shoulder length hair stood as well.<p>

"Hawke!" Isabela said. "We were just talking about you. Although you're making me look like a liar right now." She raked her eyes over Marian. "Honey, you look like shit. And here I was, talking you up to Howe. I even told him what a steadying influence you are on Anders." She brushed a cobweb off of Marian's shoulder and grimaced.

"No time, Bela." Marian slammed her palms down on Varric's table and leaned towards the dwarf. "The templars came for me this morning. They got Anders."

"And Justice allowed this?" The one Isabela had called Howe said incredulously.

"There were too many of them. They used smite. I think it did something to Justice." Marian shook her head. "He never made an appearance. I..." She felt Isabela's hand on her back, urging her to sit down. She had ran through the tunnels under her house, using forgotten passages to escape into Darktown. Then she had ran directly to the Hanged Man. The adrenaline that had kept her going was seeping out, leaving her drained. She covered her face with her hands.

"We have to save him. They'll kill him or make him tranquil," she said, her voice muffled. "I shouldn't have dragged him into this."

"And what would that be, Hawke?" Varric asked. "The part where you told everyone he was the father of your child? Or the part where you had him pretend he was?" Isabela's felt Hawke's back stiffen under her hand.

"This isn't the time, Varric," Isabela admonished.

"Oh? I think this is very much the time," Nate said. "The templars couldn't get to Anders when he was in Darktown. From what the two of you have told me, they would have had to go through a battalion of Ferelden refugees."

"I can't believe Meredith had the gall to come to my home, though," Marian said as she dropped her hands. "He should have been safe there!"

"Should have," Varric said drawing their attention to him. "But Darktown is out of sight, out of mind. Why do you think the gangs run down there? Or we find so many apostates and blood mages? No one cares what goes on in Darktown. Hightown, though, that's another matter. You and Blondie weren't exactly quiet about the fact he was living with you."

Marian rested her head on her arms and stared at the floor under the table. She absently noticed that the floor to Varric's room was cleaner than the rest of the Hanged Man. "How did you figure it out?" she asked.

"Warden's are sterile," Nathaniel offered. "It's not widely known."

"But you know it," Marian muttered. "Who else knows?"

"Just us so far," Isabela said. Her voice held no note of judgment. She'd once told Hawke that there was little she judged another for. No matter what someone had done, she'd more than likely done it too-if not twice.

"And Broody," Varric supplied. Hawke suppressed a groan. She could only imagine what Fenris was going to say to her.

Marian lifted her head. "This is my fault isn't it? Meredith can never imprison me in the Gallows so she's decided to go after Anders."

Varric nodded. "That is one possible reason. Or it could be as simple as Blondie made himself a little too comfortable near the nobles of Hightown."

"We could go around and around of the why's," Nate said. "Or the who's and Howe's," he mumbled, a small smile slipping over his lips.

"The sexy warden is right." Isabela sent Nate a sly look. "What matters is that one of ours is gone. What are we going to do about it?"

_She just doesn't stop_, Marian thought. _Isabela will be flirting with the Maker when her time comes._

"Do about what?" Everyone's eyes jerked towards the door and went silent as Fenris walked into the room. A chill went up Fenris' spine. Hawke was wearing a dirty nightgown and even Isabel looked solemn.

Varric cleared his throat. "Templars came to Hawke's place this morning. They got Blondie."

The elf's lyrium brands flared so brightly, the light seeped through his armor. Anders would never allow himself to be caught. He'd heard the mage talk often enough about how he would rather die than go back to the circle. He knew what had happened the last time they had come for Anders. "There has to be a mistake," Fenris said, willing the others to tell him that it hadn't happened.

"No, mistake. Anders stayed behind to give me time to run." Hawke said brokenly.

"And the spirit?" Fenris asked. "He wouldn't allow this to happen." Justice would have torn the templars apart to protect Anders. Even if he didn't care about what happened to the mage, Justice cared about his cause and Anders' part in it.

"They cut us off from the fade. I don't think Anders could reach Justice." Marian touched her abdomen in a protective gesture and Fenris felt himself snap.

"This is your doing," he hissed. "If you hadn't let everyone know where he was, and lied about him being the father of your bastard-" Everyone spoke up at once, defending Hawke.

"Look, asshole-"

"Now, Broody, that's not fair."

"That's going too far!"

"Enough!" Hawke yelled as she stood up, silencing everyone. She rounded on Fenris. "I know you're angry with me, and we can have a spectacular fight about it later on, but right now Anders needs our help."

Fenris crossed his arms and snorted. His claw tip fingers started clicking together. "My apologies, Hawke."

"Accepted." Marian inclined her head. "And I'm sorry for not telling any of you the truth. But I can't go back. I can only apologize and never do anything like this again."

Fenris nodded as Isabela gave Marian a hug. It was going to take a lot more than an apology for Fenris. He was going to have to learn to trust her all over again. But right now, he couldn't think that far. "Do you think the father of your child knows?" he wondered, startling everyone.

"I..." Marian sat back down. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Does anyone know if the Knight-Captain is a vengeful man?" Fenris asked.

Marian groaned and tilted her head back to squint at the ceiling. "Nothing is secret with you guys."

"I wouldn't know about that," Isabela smiled. "I know one or two things that none of you do." She looked at Fenris speculatively and the elf shifted on the balls of his feet. He was never drinking with the woman again. Wine tended to loosen his tongue too much.

"I'm not sure you could say he is vengeful," Nathaniel said, ignoring the by-play of the others. "I do know he was posted at the Ferelden circle at the same time Anders was. The man went through a horrible time of it before he was transferred here. A group of blood mages tried to take over the circle. They imprisoned him. He didn't come out of it well."

"So we have Blondie taken to the Gallows and we have the Knight-Commander and maybe the Knight-Captain with a grudge against Hawke and Blondie," Varric summed up.

"So we have nothing," Fenris stated. "We need information. We need Anders' contacts inside the Gallows to find out what they intend to do with him, and where he is being kept."

Isabela took out one of her daggers and began to clean her nails. "I have to say, Fenris, I'm surprised you are even considering helping Anders. I would have thought that you'd be all for leaving him where he belongs. You know, locked up for his own good."

Fenris gritted his teeth against the pirate's too knowing smile. _Never_ drinking with her again. The woman was a menace.

Having made her point to Fenris, Isabela sheathed her dagger and got to her feet. "Well. I know where I'm going. The Blooming Rose is filled to their hedonistic rafters with templars. I'm on a first name basis with most of the employees. I'll see what I can find." She grinned at Howe. "Care to join me? No one knows you in Kirkwall. You might be able to find something out I can't."

Marian rolled her eyes. The Rose was the last place where Isabela needed help finding information. She practically owned the place.

Varric grinned as Isabela and Howe left. "Poor bastard." He took a large drink from the tankard in front of him, forgotten when Marian had burst into the room. "You and I are going to get a hold of your brother, Hawke. We'll have to be careful, though. They're sure to be watching him now."

"And my occupation?" Fenris didn't like feeling this way. The night before, he and Anders had come to some sort of understanding. What that was, the elf couldn't say. He didn't hate the man anymore, that much was true. But thoughts and feelings beaten into from his remembered lifetime reared its head. The rest of Thedas confused him. The Imperium was so different,-the circles a joke-that he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the plight of the mages here. All he knew was that if someone wanted freedom badly enough, they would make a deal with a demon in order to get it.

Fenris was finding he couldn't blame them for the sentiment. Even if he did blame them for the act.

"You get to do what you do best, Broody," Varric said as he chuckled. "You get to go and scare some mages. Get them to tell you who Blondie's contacts are. I'd start with Darktown."


	8. Chapter 8

I will say my thanks as many times as I can to everyone. Thank you all for reviewing, putting this on your alerts and reading!

A/N: I have a lot of story still to go, I hope everyone is willing to sit out the ride!

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><p>"Broody, you need to sit down. You're giving me a headache." Varric leaned back in his chair and watched Fenris make another circuit around the dwarf's room. Fenris stuttered to a halt and stomped over to a chair. He threw himself down into it, his normal grace gone in his agitation.<p>

"It's been three days." One of his feet began to tap on the floor. "Why haven't we moved yet? The mage could be dead by now. The man has no sense of self preservation."

Tap. Tap. Tap. Varric sighed and gave Fenris' foot a pointed look. "Maybe I should have let you pace." He sighed again when Fenris pushed to his feet and began to move once more around the room. The elf was ready to explode. It had started when Fenris had found out Anders had been taken. With each dead end, his anger had only grown. The mage underground had gone... well, underground. News had spread fast that Anders was in the Gallows, and the resistance had scattered, going into hiding until the dust settled. Anders knew too much about the underground's operations, contacts and methods. No one wanted to be the next one to wake up to templars at their door.

"Why don't we just do as Howe suggested?" Fenris asked. "It seems like a sound plan to me."

"Because that should be a last resort. With the Viscount gone, there is only Meredith and the Grand Cleric. Who do you think Howe should go to with his demand? One is ineffectual and the other is power-mad." Varric shook his head. "I doubt that Meredith fears the wardens. If Howe demands Blondie back, it could get ugly."

"So we do nothing?" Fenris demanded. "Hawke is hiding at my house like a criminal. Carver hasn't been able to get in to see the mage. Even you and Isabela haven't been able to get information from your contacts. The blood mage can do nothing. It's like the man entered the Gallows and ceased to exist!" Fenris knew his voice was rising, but he couldn't seem to keep his anger in check.

Varric held up his hands. "Calm down, Broody. If Blondie was dead, his body would have been hung from the Gallows for all to see. Meredith wouldn't pull any punches."

"And if he's been made tranquil?" the elf said. He almost couldn't get the words out. Four days ago, Fenris would have said he hated the mage and that Anders was finally where he belonged. But something had changed in him. He absently rubbed at his chest. It was if the moment Fenris had decided to actually listen to what Anders had to say, the mage had become a completely different man. He knew that it wasn't true, Anders wasn't the one who was transformed, it was only Fenris' perspective. He could finally admit-even if it was just to himself-that maybe not all mages were evil. It wasn't magic that made a mage twisted, it was the person wielding it. The revelation had come to him two nights ago as he scoured the streets of Darktown fruitlessly. It had stopped him in his tracks, his breath leaving him like a punch in the gut.

He knew that the others had noticed his change in attitude when he talked about the mage, but they had of yet mentioned it to him. He bristled with each new block that was thrown up at them. Everyday he advocated more and more for just walking into the blighted place and taking Anders. Granted, Howe's idea was better than the brute force method that Fenris was demanding. The warden wanted to simply petition Meredith and the Grand Cleric for Anders release. Anders was a warden that had deserted his post, therefore he should go to warden custody and be brought back to Vigil's Keep. Fenris knew why the others didn't want to do it. Varric was correct in thinking that Meredith and Elthina didn't fear the wardens, but there was more to it than that. If Howe took Anders... the man would be gone. Howe's plan was no subterfuge, he really meant to take the mage back.

"If he'd been made tranquil then we would have seen him hawking trinkets by now. Either way, he would be on display as a warning to others." Varric sounded so sure of himself, that Fenris wanted to believe him. But his life rarely ever worked out so neatly. Just when he finally kills Hadriana, she tells him of a sister. Just when he realized that there was more to a man he had known for years, he'd been taken.

No, nothing was so easy.

"Howe doesn't need our permission to do this thing," Fenris reminded Varric. "He only waits out of courtesy." Fenris had even encouraged the warden in his endeavor. It frustrated him that the others seemed to rather see Anders dead, than alive and away from Kirkwall.

"No, he doesn't," Varric said, his eyes tracking Fenris as he paced around the room, his bare feet padding on the carpet. "He is waiting to see who he should make his petition to. The man knows what he's doing when it comes to politics. He's been seen in Hightown, the chantry and the Gallows the past few days. Unless we can get to Blondie first, Howe is going make his move soon."

"And would that be so bad?" Fenris growled. "He would be alive. I don't understand why none of you can see this." He stopped and slashed his hand in the air. "Alive is better than dead. Or have I been mistaken in thinking that? Here I thought that breathing was preferable."

"Oh, ho!" Varric smirked. "Broody is making a joke. Now I know we're fucked." He rested his elbows on the table top and leaned forward on his arms. "None of us want to see Blondie killed, but we also can't guarantee that the wardens will be any better. He did run from them."

"That was different." Fenris couldn't tell Varric how he knew it was different. The confidences that he and Anders had quietly shared before a fire, were not for public consumption. "And I know they won't kill Anders. Howe gave me his word."

"Since when do you believe a man's word, Broody?" Varric's eyes turned speculative. "The Howe name isn't known for being truthful."

"I have my reasons," Fenris was being evasive, but he didn't care. It was none of the dwarf's business why he was trusting Howe, or why he was trusting him with Anders' life. "Just believe me when I say that Howe will not hurt him if this works."

"You have to give me more than that, Fenris." The fact that Varric had used his name, instead of the insipid nickname he always used, gave Fenris pause. He didn't have to tell him everything, just enough to get him to cooperate. Howe needed them as backup in case it went wrong. Fenris was more than willing to go, they just needed the others.

Fenris took a seat again and folded his hands on the table. "What I say can never be told to anyone else. No writing this down. No names being changed _just_ enough to get away from the truth. More than the mage's life is at stake."

"Well now." Varric settled back in his chair, his voice full of interest. "That's a tall order, Broody. But I can promise it. If," he held up a finger, "it's everything you're hinting it is."

Fenris breathed in deeply. "You were there when Howe talked to Justice. He has told me since that Justice has changed. The Justice we know and the one that Howe knows is completely different. Howe used the word 'insane'. He's convinced that Justice is turning into the demon he so despises. Vengence, is what he called him. Howe thinks that Justice will only leave Anders when he is dead."

"This is only confirming what we've all suspected for a long time now, Broody," Varric interrupted. "It's also not assuring me that Nathaniel doesn't mean to hurt Blondie."

Clenching his hands together to prevent himself from fidgeting in frustration, Fenris gritted his teeth at Varric. "Just listen to me. Howe has informed me that his Warden-Commander is the Hero of Ferelden. During the blight, the Hero came across a young boy that had been possessed by a demon. He was able to free the boy without killing him."

Varric's breath left him in a rush. "That's..."

"Exactly." Fenris felt some of the tension in his body leave him. Always on a short fuse, he was having trouble lately with reining in his temper. He'd even yelled at Merrill yesterday, which was akin to kicking a puppy. He knew she was a lost cause and had long ago stopped baiting her, but recently every little thing someone did seemed to set him off.

"All right, Broody. You win. If Howe can get him out of there and take him somewhere where he can get help, then I'll back you."

Anders didn't know how long he'd been in the cell. His stomach ached with an emptiness that told him it had at least been more than a day. With only the darkness and his thoughts for company, Anders had to fight to keep himself from drifting. It had been so long since he'd been alone in his own mind, that it had been overwhelming. He saw now that Justice had taken more of his psyche than he had previously thought. It was a slow encroaching, a bleeding of the spirit's personality into Anders' own that frightened him.

_What did I do to myself? _was the question he kept coming back to. He never found an answer that he liked. He had always known that Justice had changed once the two of them had merged, but now it was becoming apparent that more than that was taking place. The things that Anders had believed so passionately before now, seemed mad. For Maker's sake, he'd devised a plan to blow up the chantry. Why would such a thing _help_ the mages in the circle? That wasn't him. No matter who he was now, he wasn't a murderer. He healed people and was good at it. It wasn't just his ego talking-maybe some of it was-but Anders saved lives. He hated the templars and the circles and all they stood for, but not enough to kill so indiscriminately. There was no end game in that. Only his own death once he was caught.

And Justice _wanted_ them to be caught.

More than once he'd thought he was going insane, but now he knew it wasn't him. It was Justice. The spirit was never meant to reside in a human host for so long, not one as commanding as Justice was. The relief he felt at knowing his own sanity was fleeting. The second he stepped out of this cell, Justice would reassert his control. Would Anders even remember his realizations, or would Justice take them from him when he found out that Anders was no longer willing to cooperate?

He'd only ever wanted his freedom. Now it seemed like he was trapped once more. Only this time, there was no way out.

_There is a way out_, came the unbidden thought.

No. Not here at least. If he was to die then he would do it on his own terms. Not Justice's and not the templars.

When the door to his cell opened, Anders cried out, his light sensitive eyes watering. He pressed his arm to his ribs and shifted to stand. He might be powerless, naked and in pain, but Anders refused to not face the templars on his feet. He stood weaving, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as his eyes adjusted to the light.

"Apostate," the templar stated in that tone that all the templars seemed to use. Anders thought that they must learn it as part of their training. "You are to be brought up before the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter." At that, Anders snorted. Everyone knew that Orsino was afraid of Meredith. He would have no help from that corner. The templar reached up and pulled his helmet off. Anders fought not to panic as he saw who it was.

"But first," the Knight-Captain said, "we are going to have a little chat."


	9. Chapter 9

To everyone who has reviewed, put this story on their alerts and have been reading, a _huge_ THANK YOU!

A/N: I uploaded this last night and it is not showing up for some reason. I hope it works this time.

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><p>"Chat? I doubt you have anything to say to me that I would be interested in." Anders shifted on his feet and tried to take the pressure off his aching ribs. He was sure he looked and smelled like shit. His face was swollen where he had tried to straighten the break in his nose. He could just imagine the two black eyes he was sporting. No good could come of taking to Cullen. The man was like all templars, arrogant and full of their righteous power. He hadn't even bothered closing the door to Anders cell. Powerless and weaponless, Anders would never be able to make it past a fully armored templar.<p>

_If only I could tip him over. That much weight, he would be on his back like a turtle._

"I remember you," the other man continued anyway. "You held the record for the amount of escape attempts." Cullen stroked the facial hair on his chin, with a steel encased hand. "Earned yourself a year in solitary for your trouble."

Anders stared at Cullen with suspicion. He didn't like the templars amiable tone. He couldn't trust the man when he was wearing _that_ armor, and blocking the only avenue of Anders' escape. Anders remembered Cullen as well. The man had been too serious by half and always followed the rules. He was one of the worst kind of templars-the true believer. At least with some, one could tell that they were only in it because they liked the power and respect they got from being the arm of the chantry. They made it easy to spot them as they strutted around the circle, traveling in packs that roamed the halls in search for a mage caught out on their own. Cullen's kind though, they thought they were helping you while they held a sword to your neck.

"Don't play games," Anders said, getting straight to the point. "What do you want?" Cullen craned his neck back and looked out the door, glancing down the hall. Anders stiffened and slid back a step. He recognized the signs of a templar that didn't want any witnesses.

When he was sure they they were alone, Cullen turned back to the mage. "You want me to get to the point? Then so be it. I want to know if you're really the father of Marian Hawke's child. You would do well to be honest with me."

"And why would you want to know something personal like that?" Anders placed a hand over his heart. "I'm hurt that you would insinuate that the mother of my child has lied to me."

Cullen's eyes flashed. "You asked me not to play games, so it only stands to reason you return the courtesy. Marian Hawke was with me-several times-two months ago. She's not the type of person that would be," he seemed to be searching for the right words, "intimate with more than one man at once and not tell them of it."

It was one thing for Anders to suspect that the Knight-Captain was the father of Marian's child, it was quite another to actually hear it. _Marian, what did you do?_ he thought.

The heavy steel of Cullen's armor creaked as he ran his fingers through his short hair. "Promises were made...She told me-"

"I don't know what she said to you, and I don't want to know." Anders held up his hand to stop Cullen from saying anything more. He didn't need to know the particulars. It was bad enough that Cullen seemed so distraught. Anders couldn't wrap his mind around it.

"She told me that she loved me," Cullen pushed on and Anders winced. "Then I didn't hear from her for a month."

_Stop_, Anders pleaded silently. _I don't want to feel sorry for you. _

But Cullen didn't stop. It was as if the moment he had Anders in front of him, everything came pouring out. "I had to find out from her _brother_ that she was pregnant with _your_ child and living with you. She never told me, as if what we had didn't matter anymore."

Anders couldn't take it anymore. "Look. I'm not the person you should be talking to. In fact, I would just as soon never have this kind of conversation with a templar again. If I wasn't the father-and I'm not saying I am-I would advise the real father to maybe think of what kind of position Hawke was put in. Maybe her being a mage had something to do with it, and how mages are treated in Kirkwall." He gave Cullen a feral smile. "Your boss doesn't like to share and she seems to hate apostates." Anders shrugged and regretted the action when his ribs screamed. "If I wasn't the father. Which I am not saying that is the case."

Cullen closed his eyes as he absorbed what Anders had said. He nodded, coming to his own decision. "And say the man that was the father wanted to help the man that wasn't," he said, opening his eyes. "In thanks for protecting someone when he couldn't." He opened a small pouch at his waist and took out a healing potion. He held it out to Anders. "This is all I can do. There is more to your arrest then even I know."

* * *

><p>Fenris stood on the boat, his arms leaning against a rail as he watched the Gallows draw closer. He'd had to tell the others the same story he'd told Varric. Howe hadn't been too pleased, until Fenris had assured him that no one would breath a word of what they planned to do to Anders once they freed him.<p>

Clouds gathered over the Gallows, casting everything into a dim grey. Water sprayed over him as the boat leaped over a wave and came crashing down again. Behind him, he could hear Merrill squeal and Isabela's reassurances.

Despite their objections, Hawke was with them as well. He glanced back and watched her vomit once again over the railing. He had made this boat trip to the Gallows with her before and had never seen her get sick like this. A storm was coming so the waves were rougher than usual. The boat rocked and bobbed over the water, and Fenris had to grip the railing to prevent himself from being knocked over.

He had no illusions that Howe's plan would go off without a hitch. Meredith had shown that she cared not for anyone's authority but her own. Fenris knew that she would deny Howe's petition.

He was counting on it.

He felt like the wolf that Danarius had called him. He felt feral in his rage. Fenris' fists tightened on the railing and gouged deep lines into the wood. Meredith had taken someone from him. She was a threat to Hawke and her child. He just needed a way in to see her and Howe was the perfect answer. If she refused to give Anders over, then Fenris was going to take him from her. He'd paint the Gallows in blood if he had to.

Howe stood next to him and watched the Gallows move inescapably closer. The man was doing so much for Fenris and Anders. More than Fenris could ever repay.

"I know what you're thinking," Nate said just loud enough to be heard over the sea. "What you want to do isn't going to be an easy out. It's getting worse, isn't it?" He nodded towards Fenris' hands. "You're about to break the railing."

Fenris forced himself to relax his hands. "I can barely control my anger," he admitted as he leaned closer to the warden. "And I'm not planning on anything. I'm just less hopeful than you are about our chances of success without bloodshed."

"We're running out of time." The wind blew Nathaniel's hair across his face and plastered it wetly to his skin. "We need to get Anders out of there before he gets himself killed. You don't have much longer as well."

"I'm aware," Fenris said dryly. "You... you are a stranger to me, yet you have done so much for me already. I don't know how I can repay you." He didn't like being in another's debt the way he was now.

"Don't worry, you're going to be repaying me for the rest of your life, remember." Howe's lips twitched. "But let's save our concern for the present. You may be right in your assumption of our chances."

* * *

><p>Anders dutifully drank half the healing potion and made a moue of distaste at the flavor. He could feel his ribs start to knit back together, the ache dulling. He quickly gripped his nose and stifled a scream as he pushed it into place and waited until he could no longer feel the break. The puffiness in his face receded and he let out a sigh of relief. He would still have some bruising on his face around his eyes, but he already felt better than he had in days. Cullen had warned him not to drink the whole potion. He was to see the Knight-Commander and it would looks suspicious if he came to her whole and well.<p>

"She seemed pleased that she didn't capture Marian," Cullen explained as he handed Anders a plain linen robe. Anders slipped it on stiffly, his sides still sore. "I think she's using you as bait in a trap. She is expecting Marian to come and get you." He rested his hand on the pommel of the sword strapped to his side. "It's been five days since you were arrested. Marian hasn't been seen yet and the Knight-Commander is getting restless. I'm to bring you to her." Cullen lifted his helmet to resettle it back on his head. "Say little to her. She has been strange of late and quick to anger."

Anders used the distraction of Cullen putting his helmet back on to blink at the man in surprise. He wasn't the same anymore. The old Cullen would never have sneaked a potion to a prisoner and given him advice on how to deal with the Knight-Commander.

_But did I ever really know him?_ Anders asked himself.

He knew the smite had happened only because of the familiar gesture Cullen made when he cast it. He beckoned Anders forward and they walked out of the cell.

They didn't speak while they walked down the twisting hallways of the Gallows. Cullen because his helmet prevented anything under a shout from penetrating, and Anders because he was lost in his own thoughts.

He had to admit that he hadn't ever talked to Cullen beyond what was necessary in the Ferelden circle. He had treated all of the templars that way. Some of them liked to play with a mage's emotions. They would get you to like them, either as a friend or a lover, and then would turn on them, laughing to their colleagues about what an idiot you were.

No, thank you.

It had never happened to Anders, but he had seen it enough times to learn the lesson well. Listening to Cullen talk about Hawke had made Anders reconsider his assumptions about the man. Hawke was a known apostate for Maker's sake. She also wasn't the sly seductress that some mage women were painted as when a templar fell for one. Anders felt a little sick wondering how Hawke and Cullen had gotten together. He wanted to know, but then, he really, _really_ didn't. He had always felt this way when he heard of a mage and a templar getting together. Why would you want to sleep with one of your jailors? But the way Cullen had acted when he had poured out his questions...

He didn't think the man was lying.

_I'm sounding like Fenris and his mage prejudice_, he admitted to himself. _I accuse him of only seeing what he wants to see. Am I guilty of the same thing? Coloring all templars with the same brush._

He knew who he _wasn't_ wrong about and they both stopped right in front of her office door. Cullen gave Anders an imperceptible nod with his helmeted head, and rapped on the door with a steel fist. There was a mumbled voice of assent in answer and Cullen pushed open the door.

The last time Anders had seen Meredith had been when Marian had killed the Arishok. She had changed dramaticly since then. Her hair hung dull and lifeless, and the skin on her face seemed too tight for her skull. She sat behind her desk a smile on her face that tried to be welcoming, but was more predatory.

"Ah! There you are Knight-Captain. I was wondering what was taking so long," she said as Anders and Cullen stopped int the middle of the room. She stood up and skirted around her desk towards them. She began to circle Anders like a vulture who wasn't sure what choice of flesh she wanted to pick from his bones.

"He was unconscious, Knight-Commander," Cullen dutifully replied. The lie tripped smoothly off his tongue and Anders wondered if he had come up with it on the spot, and how often he'd had to do it before.

"He's awake now." She tilted her head to the side and considered Anders. "Tell me, apostate, what do you think I should do with you?"

Anders knew it was a trick. There was no right answer so he said nothing, following Cullen's advice. The man seemed to know how to deal with Meredith.

"No answer?" She chuckled, the sound sending shivers up Anders' spine. "How about I tell you what I am going to do, hm?" She moved into his line of sight. "You're going to be made tranquil. Kirkwall can't have apostates thinking they can just open a clinic in Darktown under my nose and get away with it. People that should have been going to the chantry and receiving the healing gifts of the Maker, were going to _you_ instead."

Anders tried to bite back his response, but it slipped free anyway. "The chantry charges for their services. Those people were being turned away."

Meredith swooped down on that. "But you didn't turn Marian Hawke away, did you? I know what you are to her, apostate." A manic light lit her eyes. "Two apostates breeding more. It's shameful. I won't allow you or her to get away with it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Anders saw Cullen tighten his grip on his pommel. The man had been right when he said that Meredith was using Anders as bait. She had always hated that Hawke was running free in, what she saw as, her city.

Anders opened his mouth to reply when the door behind him slammed open. A young knight stood in the doorway, panting. "Knight-Commander," he said as he saluted weakly. "A group of people just disembarked at the docks. One of them says that he's a Grey Warden. We've stopped them at the courtyard, but they are demanding to see you." The relief that Anders felt almost drove him to his knees.

"What does a warden want with me?" she demanded.

"He said that you hold one of his brethren and he want him turned over."

Meredith shot a glance over to Anders. "So, what they say about you is true." She swept towards the door. "Bring him Knight-Captain."

* * *

><p>Fenris eyed the templars in the courtyard and they returned his gaze. He shifted from one foot to another and felt the comforting weight of his sword swing on his back. "Why are we waiting on her? Let us force our way in and be done with it," he hissed.<p>

"Because, she's displaying her power to me," Nathaniel replied calmly. "It's an old game. Make the other person wait in the most intimidating part of your household." He yawned. "She's not very good at this, is she?"

"Maybe not, warden," Varric laughed. "But all that steel looking at me is doing a pretty good job." He hadn't left Merrill's side since they disembarked from the boat. The blood mage had never set foot in the Gallows before and none of them wanted her to show the templars exactly why.

"Champion. I see you're here as well. I've been waiting for you." Meredith's voice rang out across the courtyard and they all turned towards the sound. Fenris' eyes drank in the sight of Anders wearing plain robes and walking behind the Knight-Commander-alive and not tranquil.

"I know you have, Meredith," Hawke sighed. She pushed herself to the front. "Why did you order your men to invade my home?"

"To capture an apostate, why else? Have you come to ask for your lover to be freed? I won't allow it. The man has proven dangerous. Instead of killing him as he should be, I will be benevolent and make him tranquil." The smile that Meredith gave Hawke was cruel. "I will allow your child's father to live."

Howe grabbed Fenris by the arm as he lifted a hand to unsheathe his sword. "No," he whispered. "You have to let me try first." He loosened his grip and let go when he felt the muscles in Fenris' arm relax and the elf nodded his ascent.

"Knight-Commander," Nathaniel called out, drawing her attention. "I am Nathaniel Howe, a Grey Warden. The apostate known as Anders is one of my brethren and a deserter. I request that he be turned over to my custody immediately. The chantry has no authority over warden matters and they take precedence. I have in my possession letters signed by the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, Aedan Cousland, that give me my authority as a Warden of the Grey. The letters ask that I move through your city without hindrance and give any assistance that I require, in accordance to the treaty signed between the Viscount of Kirkwall after the Tevinter fell." He took only one breath and pushed on.

"I also claim a prior Right of Conscription. Warden Anders was conscripted nine years ago by the Warden-Commander himself. The wardens are allowed to take any that they deem acceptable to join. Criminal history or social status do not come into play."

"And why were you in my city, Warden Howe?" she asked evenly.

"I was with a group investigating a recently uncovered thaig. In the Deep Roads. The entrance is near Kirkwall. There have been rumors of an artifact there that we were following and-" He stopped when he saw Meredith grin.

"I know of what you speak, so I can give you some of the assistance that you require." Varric and Isabela cursed under thier breath. Hawke tightened her grip on her staff, while Merrill pulled hers from her back. Fenris was the only one to shout when Meredith unsheathed her sword and a demonic red glow that they all knew so well, flared to life and enveloped her.

"No!" Fenris screamed, his greatsword in his hands and his own brands giving off an answering glow of their own.

Meredith laughed. "Kill them all!"

The Gallows erupted.


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! To everyone who has reviewed, put this story on their alerts and are reading!

A/N: In the future I might do a prequel to this story of Cullen and Marian. I haven't decided yet, though.

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><p>Cullen grabbed Anders by the hand and pulled him away from Meredith. The ground nearest to her erupted and they both staggered as the earth shook. He steadied the mage next to him and half dragged the man towards Hawke. Meredith had seemed unsteady for a long time now, but Cullen had not understood the magnitude of what was wrong. As the man who was second only to Meredith in the Gallows, he berated himself for not having seen it before. It was his duty to make sure that nothing like this happened. His own men had been constantly undermined for reasons that Cullen couldn't ever see. Blood mages and abominations were rampant in Kirkwall to a degree that he'd never witnessed before. Considering his own past, he should have known something wasn't right. There was an evil in this city, simmering just below the surface. Cullen hadn't realized it had always been under his nose.<p>

As he and Anders approached, a white haired elf lifted the largest greatsword Cullen had ever seen, and snarled at him. "Let him go!" A blue light enveloped the elf's hands as he shifted his stance to better heft the massive weapon.

Cullen let go of Anders and ripped his helmet off. He dropped it to the ground with a clang. "Take him! He doesn't have access to his powers." He pulled his sword free and pushed passed the elf, his steps determined and carrying him towards Marian. He yanked off the gauntlet from his free hand and reached out to her. His bare fingertips touched her cheek and her mouth fell open as she lowered her staff.

"Cullen..." she whispered.

"Did you really think so little of me?" he asked, as if they weren't surrounded by hundreds of templars who would gladly take their heads. He didn't give her a chance to reply before his lips were on her's. The kiss was fleeting, a quick touch of shared breath. He pulled back and gave her a small smile at the startled look in her eyes.

"I-" was all she got out before she looked behind him. "Maker preserve us," she breathed.

* * *

><p>When the first statue came to life, Anders found himself thrust behind Fenris and Nate. The two of them became a thorny wall of arrows and steel. "I can't heal you!" he shouted over the pounding of the earth as the statue hit the courtyard and sent cobblestones spraying. he considered asking Cullen to remove the smite, but he hesitated. Justice would not stand idle if there was a chance to kill templars-especially Meredith. He reached into his robes and pulled out the half finished healing potion and downed the rest.<p>

He'd always known that Meredith was insane, but he hadn't known the extent. Bartrand was in a care facility, the best that Varric's money could buy. The man wasn't going to recover-and neither would Meredith.

"The Maker guides me in this!" she cried. She lifted her sword and pointed at at them. "You offend with your very existence. Blood mages and abominations abound in this city. Each time I look, your name is mentioned, Champion. I will cleanse this city, beginning with you and any you have corrupted."

"Stop!" Anders felt his eyes go wide when the First Enchanter came running out of the Gallows, his hands and staff raised. Behind him, mages came pouring out. "Do not do this thing, Meredith." He took a step back when she turned on him and he saw her eyes.

"You do not presume to tell me what to do, First Enchanter. Take your mages and return to your rooms."

In a surprising show of strength, he shook his head. "No. You can't kill innocent people. I won't allow it."

Meredith laughed and she swung her sword around towards him. "You won't allow it? Do you align yourself with the Champion then? I know you have met with her on several occasions. Maybe you would rather she run unchecked."

"Meredith," he pleaded, "this isn't you. That sword... I've always felt something wrong with it. I've told you that. You must relinquish it." Some of the more daring mages skirted around the templars and stood among Hawke and her friends. Anders wanted to tell them to run, to take the chance when it was offered and get away.

Meredith noticed it as well and she sneered at Orsino. "You leave me no choice. If you are not with me, then you are against me. I do not need the chantry's permission for it. I am the authority here and the Maker whispers to me."

Orsino shook his head and held out his hands in supplication. "Do no-"

"I call for the Right of Annulment! This circle shall be cleansed and the city with it!"

* * *

><p>Fenris flew backwards as Meredith slammed her power into him. His side hit the remains of one of the living statues, and his breath left him in a rush. He pressed a hand to the ground and gasped for air. They couldn't keep this up. Without Anders to heal them, their group was fading fast. They'd had to go through templars and mages alike to get to Meredith. Some of the mages had turned to blood magic in their fright, changing into abominations that had scorched the courtyard as they died.<p>

"Get up, Fenris." Merrill helped him get to his feet and shoved another health potion into his hand.

Aveline had come with the guard as soon as the first explosion had rocked the Gallows. No one had wanted to involve her in what they were doing, but she had come anyway. She was the last of the guard standing, and with her shield raised high against the monstrosity that Meredith had become, she looked like a hero in a chantry window come to life. She had become the buffer between Meredith and the others. Fenris was next in line and his sword kept the statues from getting to the others. Behind him, the mages and rogues stood. They were the support, and they threw everything they had at Meredith and the metal monsters she brought to life.

But they had no healer.

Anders had begged Cullen to recast the smite, before the templar had left with a group of his men to see to the safety of the mages that had stayed inside. If Fenris hadn't seen it for himself, he would have accused anyone that had told him of it of lying. The mage had feared what Justice would do if he was finally released, and no one wanted to try and contend with the spirit.

At least, not yet.

It also left Anders vulnerable, and without a healer, the others were reliant on other mages and healing potions. The other mages had either died or ran off a long time ago.

Fenris ripped the cork out of the flask with his teeth and drank the potion. An arrow flew by his shoulder and he turned to see the last of the statues rumbling towards him. The barbed tip of the arrow took a chunk out of the statue, but it kept coming. "Merrill!"

"On it!" A glyph shone under the statue and it froze in its tracks. Fenris shimmered, phasing between worlds as he lifted his sword and rushed towards the paralyzed statue. He gave a great cry and put his whole body into his swing. His sword bit deep and cut into the thing's neck, taking the head off.

Nathaniel had lectured him the night before on the necessity of keeping his rage in check. He'd cautioned him not to engage in battle if he could help it. Fenris had made his decision, though. He would protect Anders and the others, no matter what the cost.

He ducked as the statue swiped at him and he took one of its arms, chopping it off at the elbow. Battle-lust and adrenaline rushed through his veins and his world narrowed down. Everything slowed to a crawl and he knew what was happening. His movements became rote, his mind slipping away to only the sword in his hands and the enemy in front of him.

He didn't hear Merrill's voice calling to him until the statue was nothing but twisted metal at his feet. Everything came rushing back in. Sound and light grew as the world snapped back into place. He turned to see the others standing around a kneeling Meredith. The Knight-Commander was blackened and still as the statues that she's had fight for her.

* * *

><p>Hawke stayed behind at the Gallows to help make some sort of sense of what had happened that day. Cullen had practically marched her inside while he called for a healer to come and evaluate her. Anders hadn't wanted to let her go, and he'd felt his gut clench in dread as he watched her walk inside the one place he had never wanted to see her go.<p>

Half of the mages and knights had died. A quarter of the mages had ran. There would be ramifications from what had happened, but no one wanted to even think that far ahead yet. They needed to count and mourn the dead first. There was no question that Meredith was at fault for what what had transpired. Cullen assured them that he would launch an investigation, but he wasn't going to hold anyone but Meredith responsible. He seemed years older in just a span of a day. The weight of his new responsibilities were already showing in the lines on his brow.

Anders felt cravenly as he asked for one more smite from the man. He couldn't keep this up. Justice was going to reassert his place in Anders mind, and the mage was afraid of what would happen when he did. He needed to disappear again. Maybe take himself off before Justice knew that they were no longer in Kirkwall. A smite didn't last forever, but if he was quick, he could get himself far enough away before the spirit came back.

Nathaniel had other plans, though.

The second they disembarked, the man clapped a hand on Anders shoulder and steered him towards Lowtown. "Going somewhere?" he asked mildly. Anders would have balked if Fenris hadn't placed himself on his other side. The two of them were leading him towards the Hanged Man. He was exhausted, as he was sure they all were, but Anders hadn't eaten in days and a potion only took care of so much. Still, he tried to shake off the hand on his shoulder, only to have Fenris clamp down on his other one.

"I need to get to my clinic." Anders looked from one man to the other. "I've been gone for days. Who knows what state it's in."

"Is that why you were walking in the other direction?" Fenris asked. "Or is that a new route you take that I don't know about?" His lips twitched when Anders stomach gave off a large gurgle. "You need food and I've seen what you have to offer at the clinic. You always give it away."

Before he knew it, they were inside the Hanged Man and the room Nate had rented for his stay in Kirkwall. They pushed him down in a seat and stood before him, their arms crossed. Anders didn't like this united front thing the two of them were doing. He needed them to understand it was dangerous for him to be here.

"Not that I don't appreciate the whole rescue thing, but I can't stay here." He tried to get to his feet, only to have Nate push him back down again. "I _mean_ it," he gritted out. "I don't know what Justice is going to be like when my connection to the fade comes back. I can't be around people when he does. I shouldn't even be in this city."

"Good thing we won't be here long then," Nate said. "We're leaving first thing in the morning."

"No! You don't understand. I can't be around anyone." He grabbed at the hair on the back of his head and pulled in frustration. "These last few days without Justice in my thoughts... He's changed, Nate, I see that now. The things he wants me to do..."

"I can imagine," Nate said dryly. "He was never meant to survive as long as he has outside the fade. But we'll deal with that when it comes. I'm sorry, Anders, I have to take you back. The Warden-Commander is going to want to talk to you." His arms went slack at his sides. "I'll see about getting some food for all of us."

On his way out, he turned and looked at Fenris. "Tell him. It might make him change his mind."

Fenris could have killed Howe as the door shut behind him. "Tell me what?" His eyes jerked towards Anders and then moved away again.

"I'll be going with you."

"Excuse me?" Anders said. "You can't come with me. Why would you even want to? I mean, I know the danger and the darkspawn is attractive, but _I_ don't even want to go." As he spoke, Fenris pulled off his gauntlets. Anders' voice stuttered to a halt while he watched Fenris bare skin that he didn't often reveal. The elf reached up and undid the clasps that held his armor in place, baring his collarbone and chest.

"Andraste's tits!" Anders jumped to his feet and his hands hovered over Fenris' skin. Dark lines of sludge crept their way up the elf's body just under his flesh. They showed in stark relief against his lyrium brands. "Anders' hand began to shake. "How long?"

"Five days now. Howe thinks I will be able to make it to Vigil's Keep for the Joining," Fenris said softly. "He's told me I might not survive it, even if I get that far."

"He wasn't suppose to tell you that," Anders choked out. "Warden secrets and all."

"I know. But I am dead if I don't go." Fenris saw Anders' fingers twitch before they rested on the elf's chest. He traced the lines the taint was making and Fenris sucked in an imperceptible breath. Neither of them spoke and the logs crackled in the fireplace, the only other sound in the room besides their slow breaths.

Anders couldn't bear the thought that Fenris might die. This was different than going into battle. Fenris was deadly, one of the most skilled swordsman that Anders had ever seen. The Joining wasn't wasn't something you could protect yourself against. The darkspawn blood took indiscriminately. Anders had watched a woman he'd seen wade in darkspawn blood and come out the victor, drop dead from the Joining.

Anders still wasn't sure why he had survived.

When Fenris didn't stop his fingers' exploration, he pressed his palms fully on the elf's chest. he could feel the thudding of Fenris' heart and Anders' eyes flicked up and held his. Carefully, to give Fenris a chance to back away, Anders moved forward. His head tilted down and he stopped, their lips a hair's breadth from touching. Fenris' lips parted and his eyes became hooded. Anders could feel the elf's heart beating faster and he slid his palms up the column of Fenris' throat to rest his fingers on the back of his head. There were so many things he wanted to say to Fenris. The words clamored to get out and choked him into silence.

It was Fenris who closed the distance between, their lips coming together in a light kiss that just brushed along his skin. Anders sucked in a surprised breath through his nose. It was tentative tasting, the kiss more of a question than an answer.

The door creaked and Fenris pulled away, the spell broken. Anders reached out and made a small sound of denial in the back of his throat. The elf turned away and stood in front of the fire, his back to the door and Anders. Fenris' fingers were clumsy as they redid the clasps to his amour. He could smell food wafting through the room and heard the sound of plates being set down. He closed his eyes and willed his body to calm down. Blood roared in his ears and he felt lightheaded.

Several weeks ago he had confided to Isabela that he found the mage attractive. It was something he had said in a drunken haze, and only remembered it because the woman had not let it go. He turned his head just enough to look at Anders over his shoulder. He was digging into his food with the enthusiasm of the starving. He'd hated Isabela for her teasing. The thought of wanting a mage was abhorrent. But he wasn't the same person he was a week ago, and he was starting to see that the woman might have known something all along.

"I'll come, Nate," Anders said once be polished off his second bowl of stew. He pointed at the warden with his spoon. "I meant it, though, when I said I don't know what Justice will do. I only have a few hours left before my connection to the fade comes back."

"Then we leave the city," Fenris said as he turned, composed once more. "We stay the night on the Wounded Coast. Let the demon come."


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks to one and all for reviewing, reading and putting this story on their alerts!

A/N: Sorry this took so long! Finally an M rated chapter!

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><p>The pull of the fade on Fenris' brands jolted him from sleep. He rolled over in a crouch on his bedroll, his sword in his hands. They had made camp on the Wounded Coast and fallen into an exhausted sleep. Fenris could see the sun breaking over the horizon, signaling the dawn. He had slept far longer than he had wanted to, but the battles of the day before had dragged his body into a deeper sleep than usual. Anders had been the first to fall asleep, His ordeals in the Gallows coupled with the battle had sapped what little strength he'd had.<p>

Fenris' eyes darted around the smoking remains of their fire and over the still forms of his companions. He slowly straightened and took a careful step towards Anders. The last time he and Justice had met, Fenris had accused him of being selfish. To Varric's horror, the elf had asked him if there was any justice in Anders giving up his humanity in order to serve their cause. He'd challenged it in a way that none of their friends had ever dared to do.

Justice had lunged for him, his hands curled like the claws on Fenris' gauntlets. Fenris had met him halfway, his hands grasping once more into Anders' coat. His brands flashed as he slammed Justice onto the ground and pinned him to the dirt.

"_I'm not afraid of you,_" he'd hissed into the demon's face.

Justice's eyes had widened. "_I can hear the song in your skin._" The look that he had given Fenris was one of such longing, that the elf was momentarily stunned. No one looked at him that way. But it wasn't Fenris himself that Justice was yearning for, and the elf had known it. He'd shifted on top of Justice and had felt the demon's arousal pressing into his backside. It had been Anders' very human reaction to Justice's inhuman need.

"_Then hear it one more time and go_," Fenris had demanded. He had lit up his markings again and the demon had given him a beatific smile before receding.

The kiss from the evening before still lingered on Fenris' lips. Fenris wasn't stupid, but he didn't know how to deal with whatever Anders wanted from him. Most people were afraid of him, or wanted him for what he represented-power. If he'd ever been wanted for himself, Fenris couldn't remember. In his darkest moments, he'd wondered if it had always been like this for him. Justice he could contend with. He only wanted Fenris' connection to the fade and the song he seemed to hear.

Howe held out hope that if Justice could go back to Vigil's Keep and see the people he once knew, maybe he could be persuaded to leave Anders without killing either one of them. Fenris held out for no such hope. The spirit was changing into the demon that Fenris called him. He was maddened and trying to take Anders down with him.

Fenris hadn't gone to Gallows to take Anders back, only to give him up to Justice.

As he passed by Nathaniel, Fenris kicked the man's backside and kept moving. Why the demon had never reacted this way towards Fenris' lyrium markings before, he didn't know. He was no expert when it came to the fade. He barely knew what his own markings could do. But they seemed to calm the demon, and Fenris was not above using it as an advantage when it came to dealing with him.

When he reached Anders side, he crouched down next to the man. Behind him, he could hear Howe getting up and pulling his boots on. Anders looked for all the world like he was sleeping. His chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. With more gentleness than Fenris had ever given himself credit for, he touched Anders' cheek with the tip of his claw covered finger. Several days growth of beard covered his jaw and Fenris' claw caught on some of the hairs.

Anders' eyes shot open and the whites filled with a blinding blue. He opened his mouth and screamed with rage, the sound overlaid with Justice's voice. Fenris stayed his ground as Justice sat up and turned maddened eyes towards Fenris. "You would take us away from here? You both would interfere? The Templar Queen is dead, but there is still so much work to be done."

"There is no more work to be done," Howe said from behind Fenris. He could hear the tension in the man's voice. "The Kirkwall circle has been cleansed of its corruption. It's time to go home, Justice."

"The circle still stands!" Justice pushed to his feet and Fenris stood with him. "To kill a hydra, one must strike at its heart, not cut off a head. Another will take her place. Already you have let Marian Hawke be dragged into the pit."

Fenris didn't understand why Howe was trying to reason with Justice. Maybe it was his past relationship with the demon that was coloring his perspective. Tension thrummed throughout Fenris' body. The anger of the taint that coursed through his bloodstream, made it difficult to listen to the two of them.

"Marian Hawke is not in the circle," Nathaniel assured him. "She's with the father of her child to make the Gallows a better place."

"There can be no compromise. There can be no quarter given," Justice raged. "I have given Anders the means to see that this is so. Soon the world will know that mages are not dumb cattle to be penned."

"What have you done?" Howe asked.

"What should have been done long ago. I will strike at the heart of the templars in each city I come to. Kirkwall is only the beginning." Fenris knew immediately what Justice was talking about, even if he didn't know the means.

Howe came to stand next to Fenris. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed the man hadn't armed himself. _You're not his friend anymore_, Fenris thought. _He won't hesitate to attack you. _The sound of the waves crashing against the rocky shoreline of the Wounded Coast, reminded Fenris of the ride to the Gallows. He had steeled himself then-as he did now-to do what ever was necessary for the mage. He had been prepared to kill Anders if he had found him tranquil. He had said often enough, that he never wanted to live like that, and Fenris had been braced to give him his release.

"The heart?" Howe asked slowly. "I don't-"

"He means the chantry," Fenris supplied. "That is where the heart of the templar order is. They do little without the chantry's blessing."

Justice's lips curled. "Literally and figuratively. Take their heart, and they are nothing."

"Take their heart," Nathaniel breathed, "and they have no reason to keep the mages. That's..."

"Insane," Fenris said flatly.

"Are you judging me on what is insane, elf?" Justice turned his eyes on Fenris and he stiffened, his hands flexing around his sword. "You who sleeps with rotting corpses in a decaying mansion? Has your master come yet, or do you still wait for him to arrive at his leisure like a good dog?"

Fenris was on him the moment the last words crossed his lips. He'd dropped his sword and took Justice to the ground. He reared up and pulled back his fist, his eyes feral and one hand wrapped around Anders' hair. His fist jerked to a halt and he turned on Howe. "Let me go," he said evenly between his teeth. He felt Nathaniel's hand tighten on his forearm. "Let me go," he said again.

His markings flared brightly and he once more felt Anders' erection pressing insistently into him. He could feel the burn of it through their clothes, and his cock swelled with an answering heat. It was a deadly combination, the want and anger. He knew he wanted Anders. He wasn't going to lie to himself about that anymore. He just couldn't trust that the mage truly wanted him in return, or if it was Justice looking for what his brands could do.

"No. I will not have the two of you tear each other apart." He could feel Fenris vibrating with anger under his hand. "All of us are going to Vigil's Keep. Your time in Kirkwall is done, Justice. The Wardens have a prior arrangement with Anders. He is bound to us by oath and blood. Would you have him be foresworn as well as a murderer?

Fenris blinked and relaxed his body. He kept underestimating Howe's knowledge of how Justice worked. Fenris was well spoken, but when it came down to it, he didn't have the skills to actually talk to someone the way that others did. When he had been with Danarius, he had listened to the way the magisters spoke and the inflections of their voice. But he lacked the simple understanding of how to relate to another. He wasn't like Varric, who could look at a person and just _know_ what they were about. Even Merrill had a better understanding of what friendship was than he did.

Justice seemed to considered Nathaniel's words. The light in his eyes banked to a dim glow. "I have your word that Anders will not be harmed?"

"I would never harm him. There are still too few wardens in the world. He won't be killed or imprisoned. You have my word on that."

He scowled when Justice raised his eyebrows. "The word of a Howe?"

"It's all you'll get, Justice," Nate shot back. "If your mission is so important to you, then you'll let Anders come with us. Now that we know he's alive, the Warden-Commander won't stop sending people after him. Next time, it might not be a warden who is as amused as I am with his jokes."

"You never liked his jokes," Justice pointed out.

"I know," Nate said.

* * *

><p>Anders stared out at the sea, his coat pulled tightly around him against the spray of the ocean. They had left a day later than planned-on a different ship. His lips quirked into a smile when he heard Isabela shouting at one of her crewmen, her language even more colorful than usual. They had taken too long at the Wounded Coast and missed their ship. Nathaniel had cursed the ship's captain and all his ancestors for taking his money and leaving them behind. Not that the man was there to hear it. The only one willing to take them on in such short notice had been Isabela. She had charged an outrageous sum, citing that ship space was at a premium with the city in such chaos. She'd also said that she'd give them free passage if Nathaniel wanted to share her cabin.<p>

Nathaniel had paid.

Leaving Kirkwall had been bittersweet. The relief he felt at Justice allowing them to go was tempered with the realization that he was leaving his friends. Marian and Cullen were working on renewing their relationship, and Anders wasn't sure how he felt about it. Not that it was his place. He'd joked to her that she was going to become domesticated, a housewife that cooked dinners for her heroic, templar husband. She'd punched him in the arm for his troubles. Varric had promised he would keep an eye out for Hawke. They both knew that she couldn't seem to keep herself out of trouble for very long, and until Cullen learned this, she needed someone to have her back. Merrill had cried and made Anders promise to write her every single day. Aveline seemed relieved to see the back of him. They had only gotten along for Marian's sake. The Guard-Captain hadn't liked the danger that Anders represented to Hawke. He couldn't hate her for it, she was only looking out for a woman she thought of as a sister.

Cullen had come personally to deliver Anders staff and clothes. They had been left behind in storage at the Gallows. The two men had said little to each other, but their handshake and Cullen's thanks had been heartfelt.

They had been at sea for two days now and would stay there for a week more. Isabela's ship was fast, but it might not be fast enough. Anders closed his eyes and shut out the endless sea in front of him. Fenris hadn't left his bed since they'd raised sail. Anders knew that the elf was getting worse. It was taking all of his strength now to fight the taint. Nate's original estimation that he would be able to make it to the keep for the joining might have been optimistic.

_Fenris is strong, through. He survived what Danarius did to him. he can survive this._ Anders had to remind himself of that. Only Nathaniel had been allowed into the elf's cabin and he had been stubbornly silent when Anders had inquired after him. He slapped his hands down on the railing and sighed. He was a healer, for Maker's sake, but he could do nothing for Fenris. He'd even gone as far as to beg Justice for answers.

There was none to be had.

Justice seemed to be concerned as well and it caught Anders off guard. Something had happened between the two of them and Anders had only been able to get the barest details from the spirit.

_His flesh sings_, had been his only reply.

When he'd come to himself on the Wounded Coast, it was to awaken hard and aching. In a quiet voice, he'd asked what had happened. He'd listened with only half a mind as Fenris' voice stole over him and said the words he'd wanted to hear. Justice wasn't going to fight them, they were going to Vigil's Keep. He'd shuddered then, in relief and need.

Maker that voice.

It had shot straight to his already hard cock and each beat of his heart made it throb. The plain linen robes were scratchy on his flushed skin and he bit back a moan as it rubbed against his prick. With his back to the other two, he'd muttered about needing the little boy's room and stumbled off towards a large rock that jutted from the sand. The moment that he turned the corner, his hands had begun to fumble with his robes. He'd hiked them up to his chest and held it up with his teeth. He had let out a muffled hiss as his hands had wrapped around his cock. Precum had already started to leak from the slit and he'd rubbed his thumb into it, smearing the slickness along the head. His back had braced against the rock and his hips had rocked into the tight circle of his fingers. He'd gasped, his balls already beginning to draw up tightly. He had thrown his head back and looked up into the stormy sky as he'd panted heavily through his nose. Each time his hips moved back, his thumb had swiped over the head and rubbed against the sensitive glans on the underside. After only a few strokes, his legs had begun to shake and his ass clenched with anticipation. He'd fought against the muffled groans that threatened to escape and had bit down hard on the cloth in his mouth. Jerking his hip wildly, he'd squeezed his cock and moaned Fenris' name. He'd shuddered against the rock and his eyes had slid shut as he came. Semen had splattered on the sandy ground and he'd squeezed his cock again, drawing the sensation out.

He had never been so hard in his life. He'd also never felt so disgusting. Jerking off while your friends were only a few feet away was nothing new. The circle had little in the way of privacy and growing up in a boy's dorm, one learned to ignore such things. This was different. Anders had never felt such a loss of control before. Well, not one he could remember. He was never aware of what Justice did or said with his body, and for that he was thankful for, or he use to be. He'd woken up to blood and death after Justice had taken over. He had awoken to pain and fear. He'd never regained consciousness and been slammed with such need.

Anders scrubbed his face with his hands and opened his eyes. _More sea. Yay._ He had to see Fenris and assess the elf's condition with his own eyes. Nate wasn't a healer. He was an archer that broke into keeps and shot things that tried to eat Anders full of arrows. He hadn't been healing Fenris for as long as Anders had.

_Your infatuation with the elf is ill advised,_ Justice said.

_Like agreeing to take a spirit as a roommate? I think we both know I seem to only do ill advised things. _Anders noticed that Justice wasn't trying to stop Anders, only warning him.

_His flesh sings. _Justice said, as if that explained everything. _We will go to him._

_Why do you keep saying that?_ Anders asked as he started towards Fenris' cabin. This wasn't the first time that Justice had said those cryptic words.

_His markings sing of the fade, and I am home._


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you one and all for reading!

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><p>Fenris curled up on the thin mattress in his cabin. His threadbare blanket was wrapped tightly around his shivering form. The sway of the ship added to his dizziness and his shut his eyes against it. The corruption had spread up his neck and shoulders, the black sludge just under his skin caressed his jawline. The single lamp in the room had been extinguished days ago, and the only light was from the small porthole set in one wall. He no longer was able to tolerate anything but the dimmest of light-even that taxed him.<p>

He was losing the fight with the taint.

The whispers of the darkspawn grew stronger with each passing hour. Howe had explained to him that he would hear them as a warden when they were close, and dream of them when they were not. What Fenris heard now was a calling. They clawed at his mind until he was unable to distinguish his own thoughts. They promised him oblivion if only he would come to them. At first, Fenris had been able to ignore the whispers, but as the days went on and his body began to weaken, he found that their offer was becoming tempting.

If he had felt a fraction like this when Danarius had given him his marks, then Fenris was glad for once that his mind had wiped it from memory. His skin no longer felt like his own and his arms had scratches on them where he had dug furrows with his fingernails. He could feel his heart pumping sluggishly as it pushed the taint through veins that were never meant to hold it. If he could have, Fenris would have snatched his own heart from his body to stop it from aiding the corruption.

He felt like he was going mad.

His drifting was interspersed with visits from Howe. He'd asked the warden to let no one else come to see him. He couldn't stand the thought of Isabela or Anders seeing him like this-so weak and pathetic.

He touched his lips and rubbed against the skin with his index finger. He could still taste Anders there and he closed his eyes, remembering. That memory had become the one thing that kept him grounded. He couldn't allow this to beat him, not when there were still so many things he had yet to do and say. Whatever it was in him that had made him strong enough to survive raw lyrium being inlaid into his skin, he would draw on that to fight this new intruder. When his resolve faltered, Fenris would close his eyes and call upon the feel of Anders' touch on his skin. That had been real. Not what the darkspawn were offering. Not the feeling that his skin belonged to another, and all he had to do was tear it off to feel whole again.

The latch on his door clicked and Fenris sat up in his bed. His blanket slid down his bare chest, revealing exactly how far gone he was. His olive skin was bleached grey and even his markings hadn't been immune to the taint's infiltration. Dark lines slashed through the white brands and distorted what had once been a beautiful, scrolling mimicry of the Dalish tattoos.

He shut his eyes against the light that would be let in once the door was open. Howe only visited him at night once they discovered Fenris' sensitivity. He wouldn't be coming unless it was something important. But it wasn't Howe's voice he heard when the door shut once more.

"Maker's sainted whores!" Anders had known that Fenris had to be in a bad way to go into seclusion like he had, but he hadn't prepared himself for how bad it actually was. What little light was in the room had given him enough of the view of the elf.

Fenris' eyes flew open. "Get out." Even his voice had changed. It had lost its rich cadence and become guttural and harsh. Anders forced himself to let go of the door handle and walked to the bed. It was just dark enough to see, but barely. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out more of the elf. What he had thought were shadows was only the taint, snaking up Fenris' chest and neck as if it meant to choke the life from him.

In a very real way it was.

Fenris turned his face away from Anders and his hands clenched at his blanket. he made no move to cover himself, giving the mage a good look. "I told you to leave."

"I..." Anders shook his head and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. "Maker, Fenris. why didn't you tell me?"

"And what should I have told you?" Fenris looked at Anders from the corner of his eyes. "That I might not make it to the keep? I've always known it was a possibility. I don't need your pity, mage." He had received pity from the others when they had found out Fenris was going with the wardens and why. Hawke had actually cried.

"Pity? Do you think I feel pity for you right now?" Anders choked. "That's... that's not what I'm feeling at all." He noticed the scratches on Fenris' arms. "Let me heal those." He lifted his hand when Fenris caught his wrist, arresting the action.

"No." They stared at each other in a silent battle of wills. Fenris' lips curled and he tightened his grip before flinging Anders' hand away. "Do as you like." He held out his arms and Anders couldn't help but notice the way Fenris' hands shook.

The healing spell, normally so soft and cooling, slammed into Fenris like a punch. He bit down on his tongue to keep the moan from his lips as his brands flashed in response. Suddenly, he felt all too much like he was in his own skin. The magic licked a line up his markings and settled in his groin. He jerked his arms away and wrapped them around his chest. He dropped his head down and let his hair shield his face, and the hunger that he knew Anders would see in his eyes.

_It sings..._

Anders abruptly cut off the flow of his spell and reared back. it was the brands. there was something about the lyrium brands that Justice liked. No... craved. Lyrium was said to be to be formed from the waters of the Fade. Was this what Justice meant when he said he could hear it singing?

_Why now?_ Anders asked. _I've healed Fenris so many times over the years, what has changed?_

_Part of him was always locked away, shutting in the greatest of the song with him. Something has changed in him, I can hear it clearer now than I could before. _Anders had never heard Justice speak this way before. The spirit sounded both exalted and saddened.

_You miss the Fade, _he ventured.

_Always. More so when he is near._

Anders had always known that Justice had changed when the two of them had merged. Just as he'd always known that Justice missed his home. He had just never given it much thought. The spirit had seemed so determined that nothing would get in the way of their mission. Now, he was seeing something different in Justice. The spirit sounded more sure of himself than he had in a long time. All too often, Justice harangued at Anders about their goals for mage freedom. He berated the mage on his lack of dedication. This was more like the Justice that Anders remembered. This was more like the friend who had helped him when he had needed him most.

_The song has dulled,_ Justice informed him. _The taint is muffling the sound._

Whether it was Justice's reaction, or Anders own lust for the elf, he didn't know, but his cock was rapidly hardening. It reminded him of when he had awakened on the Wounded Coast. _This has happened before, hasn't it?_

_The elf knows of our desire. _Anders shuddered at the spirit's words. As if he were watching someone else-someone with no sense of self preservation-Anders touched Fenris' shoulder. His skin was cool under his fingertips, much colder than was normal. Fenris jerked back as if he was scalded, and maybe he had been.

"I don't know what game you are playing, but don't touch me, mage," Fenris hissed.

Anders' hand hovered over Fenris. "No game. I don-"

"No game?" Fenris lifted his eyes just enough so that Anders could see the hunger blazing in them. "I have little control over myself right now, mage. Yet you and your demon taunt me. Do you think me a fool?"

"No! Fenris, I meant to heal you, nothing more. Is it the taint? I've never heard of it reacting badly to magic. It usually doesn't react at all. Maybe if-"

He was cut off as Fenris lunged for him. Even sickened, the elf was quick, too fast for Anders to evade. He bore Anders down to the bed and pinned his hands to the mattress. He gasped as he felt as Fenris grind himself into Anders. He could feel the elf's erection through his small clothes, the only thing he was wearing.

Their faces were inches apart and Anders could see the dilation of the elf's pupils. "Your magic pulls at my brands. It feels like your hands are all over me, and in me." He slid one of his hands down Anders' arm and cupped his neck, his thumb and fingers on the mage's fluttering pulse points. He squeezed lightly in warning when Anders opened his mouth, and touched their foreheads together.

"I can only think that your demon is to blame. He wants something from me." Anders felt Justice stir as Fenris called him a demon for a second time.

"I didn't know," Anders whispered. His free hand twitched against the bed with the urge to touch the elf. He didn't dare. He knew that Fenris had lost control and Anders didn't know what he was capable of.

"Didn't you?" Fenris asked. His voice wasn't the velvet that Anders had always loved, but it still sent delicious shivers down his body. "You touch me and kiss me as if you care. We both know that is a lie. I can only assume that Justice has put you up to this. Do you often whore yourself out for him?"

His thumb hooked on the chain around Anders' neck and he drew out the amulet that marian had given him so long ago. "You wear this like you know what it means. Do you think to own me like Danarius did?"

"What are you talking about?" Anders didn't know what was happening. Fenris seemed like a wild animal, one that looked for any excuse to attack.

"Danarius use to use his magic in much the same way you are now. He would get me primed and ready for whatever bitch I was to service for his pleasure." He pressed down on Anders throat and the mage choked. "I won't be toyed with!"

"I'm not... I don't..." Anders had to make Fenris listen to him. The elf was dying, a second at a time and Anders couldn't stand to see him like this. He wanted to believe that Fenris would make it to Vigil's Keep. He needed to believe that he would survive the Joining. But if he didn't...

Dear, Maker. If he didn't...

Anders said the words that he had promised himself he never would. He revealed the secret he'd kept inside him for years. "I love you." He let Fenris see it then, his eyes and face naked and free from any artifice.

Fenris hissed between his teeth. "You lie." He tightened his grip around Anders' throat and the mage saw black spots dancing in his eyes. Inside, he could feel Justice's rage and he fought the spirit down in the same way he fought to breath.

"No... lie..." he gasped. "Fenris," he pleaded.

Fenris abruptly pushed away from Anders and turned his back on him. The set of his shoulders was stiff and unyielding. "Get out."

Anders rubbed at his throat and sent healing magic into himself on reflex. Fenris turned his head, his eyes angry slits. "GET OUT!"

He had pushed his luck and Anders knew it. He couldn't seem to scramble off the bed and flee the cabin fast enough. It was only when he literally ran into Isabela that he stopped and found himself across the ship.

"Shit, what in the void happened to you?" she asked as she steered him to a coiled rope and helped him to sit down.

Anders pulled the length of string he used to tie his hair back free. His golden hair swung down to his chin and he raked it back to tie it again. "Fenris," was all he said. It was all he needed to say.

"Getting worse." It wasn't a question. She knew as well as Anders did that there had to be only one reason for him to hide away in his cabin the way he was.

His fingers fumbled and tangled in the string. "Maker, what is the matter with me?" He felt Isabela put a hand on his and stopped the mess he was making with his hair. She gently took the tie from him and pulled his hair back herself.

"Other than you wanting him to core your apple bottom, I'd say there were a lot to chose from. You're going to have to be specific sweet cheeks." Her hands felt good in his hair and Anders realized just how much he had missed another person touching him so freely.

"That obvious?" Anders groaned.

"I know lust when I see it. I consider myself somewhat of an expert. It even sends shivers up _my_ spine when he gets all growly with you. With that strength of his, I bet he could easily throw you around a room and show you a good time." Anders knew what she was doing. She was trying to distract him from what was happening.

It only worked for so long.

The smile at her antics slipped off his lips and he buried his face in his hands, yanking his hair from her fingers. "We might have to kill him. You haven't seen him. The taint... he can barely control himself. Even if we make it, he might die from the Joining." He knew he wasn't suppose to tell her that, but he no longer cared about keeping warden secrets. Secrets are what had started this mess, and Anders was sick of them. "I can't... I just can't..."

Isabela knelt in front of him and wrapped her arms around him. "Listen to me," she said softly. "If we don't make it in time, then we'll do what needs to be done for him. He expects nothing less from us. Until that time, we still have hope." She laughed. "Listen to me! I'm beginning to sound like man-hands."

Anders snorted in a much needed laugh, then he sobered. "Tell me how much longer we have before we get to the keep."

"Three days if I push the men. They won't like it, but I'm sure all the warden gold we'll be getting will help." Anders lifted his head and blinked.

"In thanks for saving a promising new recruit for the Joining. What?" she said at his incredulous look. "Gold talks with sailors. I don't make up the rules, I only live by them."

"Now that, was a load of shit. You make up rules all the time." Calmer now, Anders took the string from her fingers and finished his hair.

"Only the fun ones."


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing!

A/N:

Untitled Dragon: I have always thought that Isabela was good peeps.

Shadowfox13: There is still a long journey for our boys ahead.

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><p>Fenris was floating. His world consisted of bright flashes of light punctuated with conversation he could only catch pieces of. He felt like he was underwater, where nothing seemed real and everything was so far away.<p>

His life floated passed him like so much flotsam that he couldn't seem to completely grasp. Memories he had never seen before teased him with fragments of what had been. He heard a name that was not his own, and saw a red haired elven girl laughing, the sound disconnected with the movements of her lips.

He sank, the darkness below him beckoning with hollow promises of relief. If he looked up he could still see light. Scenes of a bustling port city gave way to swaying trees and a blue sky, and through it all, there was Anders. Fenris knew it was him from the scent alone, and the way his feathered pauldrons tickled his cheeks where he rested his too heavy head.

His limbs had ceased to follow his command before they had even left the ship. His mind could no longer process what was happening around him. Fenris knew he was missing something important, but he struggled to recall what.

It was so much simpler to drift.

"Nate... what..." Conversation, distant and indistinct, tried to penetrate Fenris' mind.

"Can't wait... ...the Joining..."

Something pressed against his lips and he tried to turn away. Harsh fingers grabbed at his cheeks and jaw, prying his mouth open. Foul liquid washed over his tongue, and he choked as he attempted once more to move away.

"You have... ...drink, damn you." Anders. It was Anders who spoke this time and Fenris obeyed, swallowing as the fluid rushed down his throat.

The voices in the deep screamed in fury and Fenris cried out with them. The world solidified and he came back to himself, gasping for breath. He saw Howe and Anders, along with Isabela and people he didn't know staring down at him. He opened his mouth to speak before his eyes rolled in the back of his head and he fell backwards, his skull cracking on the stone floor beneath him. All of the muscles in his body seized and he began to convulse. He felt hands on him and his mouth was pried open again and something that tasted of leather was shoved in his mouth.

"Too late... ...Maker... ...too late..."

* * *

><p>Anders sat in the Warden-Commander's office, his head in his hands. Fenris had lapsed into a coma hours ago, and nothing he or anyone else could do would rouse him. It had been a frantic rush from the City of Amaranthine to the keep. They had to pay out good coin for the fastest horses they could find on such short notice. Anders had ridden very little in his life, but he had gripped the barely conscious elf to him as he had urged the mount to faster speeds.<p>

They had made it to the keep in six hours.

There had been no time for friendly-or unfriendly-reunions. Nate and Anders had carried Fenris straight inside the keep, the archer yelling for someone to come and bring them the Cup of Joining quickly.

Anders had ignored everything except getting Fenris to drink. The taint had pushed itself up the elf's face and into his eyes. Anders had screamed at Fenris to drink and he had pulled his lips apart roughly to force the liquid down him.

When Fenris took his first swallow, Anders had held his breath.

When his first seizure started, Anders knew despair.

He listened with half a mind as Nate told Aedan everything; from their first meeting in the Deep Roads to their flight from the ship. Aedan was an imposing figure as he sat behind his massive desk. His dark hair had more gray in it than Anders remembered, and he had lines streaking from the corners of his eyes and on his brow that hadn't been there before. The man was younger than Anders, but he looked like an older brother.

The blonde elf behind him didn't help with softening the man's image.

Zevran stood just behind Aedan's chair, his fingers lightly resting on the Warden-Commander's shoulder. He, at least, hadn't changed at all. If anything, the assassin's eyes had become sharper and they drilled into Anders when he looked up.

"And who is this Fenris?" Zevran asked. "The magisters don't let go of their property lightly." Every movement that Zevran made was as unconscious as it was practiced. He shrugged his shoulder in a way that said, 'I do not care,' when his eyes told a different story. He did it to disarm the unwary and unsuspecting.

Nate, who had been around the elf for far longer than Anders had, didn't answer. The question hadn't been for him anyway. Zevran guarded his warden with a zealousness that bordered on obsessive. Anything that even had the slightest reek of danger in the keep was taken care of quietly, and efficiently.

"Zev," Aedan chided, saving Anders from having to answer. "We don't even know if he's going to survive. Let's save our questions for when he can answer them." He directed his gaze towards Anders and the mage felt himself quail under it. He felt like he was back in the circle and had been caught by Enchanter Ellen with one of the new mages and his robes hiked up.

Aedan had that way about him.

"What am I to do with you, Anders?" he mused. "And Justice. We thought you both dead. Now I find out you've been in Kirkwall all this time. For all your talk of evading the reach of the circle, you went out of your way to find the city that is best known for being the most strict when it comes to their mages." He drummed his fingers on his desk.

"The Grey Wardens can't be seen as taking sides in a conflict. You know this, yet you both went to Kirkwall with the explicit purpose of," he raised an eyebrow and looked down his patrician nose at Anders. "What was it again?"

"To free the mages there of the tyranny of the Chantry," Anders mumbled. Saying it out loud to people that had known him before he and Justice had become one, was mortifying. What had once sounded so... right... now just seemed childish. He got now why Varric had always told him that the rebel mage persona wasn't going to end well.

"Ah, yes." Aedan slammed his fist down on the desk and an inkwell tipped over, gushing ink over partially written papers. "You should have come to me!"

"And done what? You were gone, and that damned templar you let into the keep was following me. They tried to take me!" Anders had several years of pent up resentment, and he was finally getting the chance to let it out on the person responsible.

"Don't make this my fault, Anders. Don't you dare. I would have come to get you if they had taken you out of the keep. No one comes here and steals one of _my_ men when my back is turned." Zevran's hand tightened on Aedan's shoulder in concern as the man's voice rose.

"I came back to a bunch of slaughtered templars, Justice gone, and what I thought was your dead body. You must think me such a fool. You both must."

"Why does everyone keep saying that to me!" Anders pushed to his feet and Aedan copied the movement, his chair scraping along the floor.

"Maybe it's because you think you're too slick by half." Aedan growled. "I trusted you both, I thought you had trusted me. I've had too much betrayal in my life, and I never expected it from the two of you."

Besides being the Warden-Commander and the Hero of Ferelden, Aedan Cousland was known for his temper. Right now, Anders was feeling its full force. He wasn't a scared circle mage anymore, and he wasn't going to back down. "Our decision had nothing to do with you. We made our choice."

He felt Justice pushing against his consciousness and he allowed it. He was getting perilously close to saying something that he would regret. He needed Aedan to listen to him, if for no other reason than to help Fenris.

"You would chasten a mage for wanting his freedom?" Justice asked. Aedan's eyes had gone wide and then narrowed. Seeing the spirit's eyes in Anders' face and the mage's lips move with another's voice, was disconcerting.

"I would chasten a mage that had made vows to stick by them," he replied. He fell back into old patterns in how he use to deal with the spirit. "Was your cause so much greater than the wardens', that you felt the need to flee like a thief in the night? Where was the justice when we mourned you?"

"I..." Justice faltered. "We had not thought-"

"That's right, you didn't. So I ask you what I asked Anders. What am I to do with you?" Aedan spread his hands helplessly.

"What you must." It was a vague answer, but it was all Aedan needed to know.

"Then once they are ready, you will confined to your quarters and the keep." Aedan straightened his tunic and sat back down, composing himself once more. "We need a healer. No one has been able to measure up to Anders since he left."

"And our cause?" Justice asked.

"We will come to that. Show me that you can be trusted again and I will aid you. I have the ear of the King of Ferelden. Give me a good reason, and I will bend it to your purpose." He exchanged a look with Nate. Howe had told him earlier of the plans he and Fenris had to separate Justice and Anders. Now that Aedan was seeing it for himself, he knew that there might not be another option.

The two of them were not sharing a body, but vying for control. If Justice won, than the fallout could be deadly for everyone around him.

Aedan didn't save the world from a blight, only to lose it to the chaos that Nate said Justice wanted.


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks to everyone for reading and being patient!

A/N:

My laptop decided to crap out. I'm borrowing another computer until I can fix it, so I might be a bit more sporadic than usual in posting. I'm just glad I back up everything I write.

Tell me if you still like the way this is headed. I have an end game planned out, but the boys are going to go on a few adventures first.

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><p>"Look, I don't know where you're getting this figure from, but this is outrageous!"<p>

Anders sighed and dropped his head back to stare at the arches in the dining hall ceiling. The back of the chair he was sitting in was low, and he rolled his neck along it in exasperation. Isabela and Aedan had been at it all afternoon, and Anders was getting sick of listening to them go around and around.

"Easy. My ship made it to Amaranthine in record time. I've brought you back two wardens and another for the Joining. I deserve that coin for the selfless acts I've preformed." Isabela was perched on a table across the room. She leaned back on her hands and thrust her—admittedly- chest out for display. Aedan stood in front of her and scowled-unmoved.

"Doesn't she realize she's putting on a show for the wrong man?" Anders asked no one in particular.

"She is like me, always holding out hope." Zevran sat across from Anders. His daggers were lined up on the table in front of him, and he stopped sharpening one long enough to give Isabela a considering look. "Although I feel as if I should be jealous. Do you think I should be? If anything could tempt him away from men, it would be her... considerable charms."

"You're joking, right?" Anders gestured towards Aedan. "I don't think he's ever been with a woman. Either you're that good, or he genuinely isn't attracted to them."

"Oh, I'm that good." The elf gave Anders a sly smile, one that promised things that Anders could only dream of, and some things he couldn't. "If I weren't so devoted to my warden, and you to your Fenris, I would show you exactly how good I am."

The mention of Fenris sobered Anders instantly. Zevran noticed it and put his blade down carefully on the table. "Has there been no change?"

Anders let out a short bark of laughter, one that lacked any mirth. "As if you don't know. I doubt there is little here that you don't know about. I bet you could tell me the color of my smalls, and what I had for breakfast."

"Undyed cotton, and you had bacon and eggs, which you ate very little of. This tells me there has been no change to your Fenris' condition, and that you are now starting to neglect your own health. You did happen to bathe last night, which is a sign that any depression that you feel is only in its beginning stages. Your unshaven state is a matter of choice and has no bearing." Zevran flashed another flirtatious grin. "A personal choice I approve of, I like the rugged look on a man."

Anders self consciously rubbed at the stubble along his jaw. Zevran's ability to size up a man so quickly was a bit unnerving. "You're right, there's been no change. I've been forcing broth down his throat and moving him on the bed so he doesn't remain in one spot, but I can't do anything else for him. I feel..."

"Helpless?" Zevran ventured. "Like you are watching someone go to their fate and you are paralyzed to do anything about it. It makes you choke-the fear. It settles into your throat, and into the place where your heart should be." He idly picked up a dagger and tested the edge. Satisfied with its sharpness, he chose another one. "You promise yourself, 'Never again. Never again will I let him be in such a position as long as I draw breath.' It is what you promise yourself to help you get through it."

"Maker," Anders whispered. He felt Zevran's words like a punch in the gut. The elf knew exactly what Anders was going through. He'd felt the same way when Aedan went to do battle with the Archdemon. It also gave him insight as to why Zevran was so fanatically protective of the Warden-Commander.

Nate had told Anders that Zevran made sure that nothing touched Aedan. No assassins had ever made it through the doors of the keep. Those that threatened Aedan's place as Arl of Amaranthine and Warden-Commander, found themselves stripped of credibility. Everyone had secrets, and Zevran was the master of ferreting them out and exposing those that would harm what was his.

"Fine, take your blighted gold! I hope your crew gets the damned pox from the whores they buy with it!" Anders turned his head to see Aedan slap a large bag down on the table next to Isabela. Coins spilled out and scattered along the scarred wood.

"Too late," Isabela said as she scooped the money back into its pouch. "They'll probably be the ones spreading it. I don't dip into my own inkwell for a reason." The pouch disappeared down her shirt, and Anders was momentarily stunned that she could fit it in there with no sign of its existence.

"The woman has many talents," Zenran said, noting Anders look. "I can tell you with certainty that she has many deadly trinkets hidden about her person as well." He ran his eyes down Isabela's body. "Want to know where they are?"

"Giving away secrets, Zev?" Isabela admonished as she sauntered over to the table. "Or were you trying to make him blush. I doubt our dear Anders knows how to do that anymore."

Zevran threw back his head and laughed. The sound echoed around the cavernous room, and Aedan looked up from a conversation with another warden to smile at it. "You accuse me of trying to scandalize the mage for my own amusement?"

"Never!" Isabela put her hands to her cheeks and gasped. "Speaking of scandalous, I hear you're monogamous now." She wagged her finger at the elf. "Now _that_ is scandalous. Virgins from here to the Anderfels must be crying into their pillow. What a waste of a perfectly fun elf."

"I'm still fun, my hedonistic friend. I just choose to put forth all my energies in having fun with one person." He picked up a cloth and began to polish the steel he had just sharpened

Anders got to his feet, unable to listen anymore. He was jealous of the assassin and what he had with Aedan. He could admit that to himself—if no one else. What he felt for Fenris was more than the ill advised attachment that Justice called it. It was also ill fated.

The things that Fenris had said to him on the ship had the tang of truth to them. Anders did idolize the Tevinter mages a little too much. Who else was a lonely and scared circle mage going to dream about? That is, if they weren't having nightmares about the Tranquil. Anders use to hoard everything he could about Tevinter. He would spend hours scouring the circle library for any mention of the Imperium that the chantry hadn't destroyed or altered. He use to think that those mages had known how to live. Everything the circles knew about magic and the Fade, was in thanks to them. When a mage had free reign to talk about and practice his craft, he was capable of so much good.

According to the chantry, they were also capable of so much evil.

Locked in the circle, Anders had never given much thought to the other side of the coin. Tevinter slavers were distant and beyond the safety of the tower. In hindsight, he knew that he had, in a way, led a sheltered life. He had never had to work for his bread, and was only starved if he was being punished. It was much the same for the life of a Tevinter slave. Anders remembered how the elven girl that Hawke had hired had acted for the first few months she was in service. She hadn't seen past Anders' robes, no matter how patched they were. It had been enough for her that he was a mage and therefore, her superior.

He needed Fenris to wake up.

Without a word he walked out of the dining hall. He took the steps up to the second floor two at a time. He had to apologize to Fenris and explain himself. Not that explanations had ever worked with the elf before.

_I need to admit to myself that this is a lost cause. What I feel for him is just my need to love something I can't have. _Maybe it was as basic as the need to get laid. He had been celibate for years, but when a younger warden in the infirmary had flirted with Anders yesterday morning, the mage had felt nothing. Never mind that there were _younger_ wardens in the keep now. Maker, some of the recruits had just been learning to shave the baby fine hair on their cheeks when the fifth blight happened.

It did no good to tell himself to forget what he felt for Fenris. There was no one else for Anders. He would gladly have the elf awake and whole, hating Anders for the rest of his life, than dead and gone.

How pathetic was that?

He counted the doors on his left until he came to the sixth one. Fenris had been in his endless sleep for three days now. Anders had rarely left his side unless it was to eat, or to attend to his new duties as head of the infirmary. The place was a mess and he was grateful for it. The work in getting it cleaned and stocked to his satisfaction, kept him from sinking into a deep depression—or running.

He was good at running; he'd done it his whole life. He'd changed, though. The merge with Justice had taught him that there were bigger things out in the world then him. He often thought that none of his friends in Kirkwall would have anything to do with him if they had known him before.

They wouldn't have even had the chance. He would have run the second he heard there were people looking for a Grey Warden apostate in Darktown. He never would have exposed himself by opening a clinic.

A _clinic_ for Maker's sake.

He had done good work there, and he could do as much good here.

_If we stay. We have only promised Cousland a short time,_ Justice reminded him—as if Anders could forget. Already he'd trapped Aedan no less than five times, and expounded on his thoughts on mage freedom. To his credit, the man hadn't looked entirely uninterested.

He opened the door and shut it behind him. Slipping off his coat, he draped it over the back of the only chair in the room and turned to look at Fenris.

Fenris looked back at him.

Ser Pounce-a-lot—older and fatter than Anders remembered him- was sprawled out on the elf's chest. Fenris' fingers were coiled in the cat's fur, and a low rumble reverberated through the room. The three of them stared at each other. One set of eyes were wide in shock, another set were filled with a smugness that came from knowing they the upper hand in surprising someone. The third pair were fine slits that were almost closed in self-indulgent pleasure.

It was Fenris who spoke first. "I take it this is your much beloved cat. You didn't mention how fat he was. I find it hard to believe he could have survived the Deep Roads."

"I…" Anders was at a loss for words. The last time he had been struck this dumb was when Marian had concocted her plan. He felt a pang of envy as the elf's fingers rubbed the cat behind its ear.

He was jealous—of a cat.

His brain caught up with what he was seeing and he let out a choked sound. His body began to move under his own commands and he rushed over to the bed. Fenris' eyes were clear and the skin on his face and neck were free from the taint. He wanted to reach out and rip the cat and blanket away from the elf to see for himself that the corruption had receded. His hands were a moment from doing exactly that when Fenris grasped him by the wrist.

"It is gone. I awoke only a short time ago to this monster of a feline on my chest and a cold nose in my ear." Fenris grimaced as if he could still feel it.

"You…" Anders breath came fast and hard, his chest rising and falling. "You…" He wouldn't cry in front of Fenris, that would be too much, but the tears that pricked the backs of his eyes had other ideas. He blinked rapidly and turned his head to stare at Pounce. He swallowed convulsively and sucked in a slow, shuddering breath.

"I-We didn't know if you were going to survive. How much do you remember?" There, he managed to sound halfway normal and not a blubbering ninny.

"Not much. I don't really recall the last few days on the ship or coming here. I remember drinking…something…and your voice." Speaking of voices, Fenris' was back to its velvety cadence. Anders closed his eyes and allowed it to wash over him. He hadn't been sure if he would ever hear it again.

"You had a seizure and went into a coma. That was three days ago. Nothing we could do would revive you. I…I didn't let anyone else touch you. I knew you would have hated that." Pounce pulled away from Fenris and nudged at Anders' hand. The cat had always known when a human just _needed_ to have a cat to pet.

"You took care of me alone?" Fenris asked delicately. They both knew what that meant. Anders had fed him, bathed him and cleaned him up like a child. Anders hadn't found any joy in being able to touch the elf so much. The reasons for it were wrong and he had known that if—_when-_ Fenris woke up, he would not have liked to know that others had seen him that way.

"I see," Fenris said when Anders gave him a short nod. "I…thank you for it. You had no reason to help me after the way I've treated you."

Anders lifted his head and looked at Fenris. He licked lips suddenly gone dry. Fenris was apologizing for more than the ship.

The elf gave Fenris a self deprecating smile. "I owe you and Howe my life. Without either of you, I would be dead, or a ghoul. Neither of you had any obligation towards me, but you helped anyway."

When Fenris had awoken to a cat's nose and rumbling purr in his ear, he hadn't known where he was. He hadn't initially known who he was. Once the panic had faded, and he began to remember, Fenris had felt only relief and guilt; relief that he was alive when he shouldn't be once more, and guilt for the way he had treated the man who was responsible for it.

His hands and arms had felt like lead from the inactivity, but he had lifted them to sink his fingers into the cat's fur. He knew who the cat was. Anders had described the feline in loving detail enough times. As he stroked the cat, Fenris had thought about the things he had said to Anders over the years. They would never quite see eye to eye when it come to the difference between the Imperium and the rest of Thedas, but that hadn't meant he could devalue the mage as a person because of it.

It's what he had done for years, but the mage had helped him anyway. Anders had even professed to love him. It was something that Fenris could scarcely credit. In Tevinter, actions spoke louder than words. A master would say sweet things one moment, and then beat the slave he whispered to the next. A smart slave didn't fool themselves into thinking that the master still cared while their back was flayed open.

Fenris had been a smart slave. He just didn't know if he could trust that the mage knew his own mind. He also didn't know what he felt for the mage, but Anders had shown him a level of caring he hadn't deserved.

"I haven't been the kindest to you," Fenris began slowly. Anders snorted and he leveled a glare at the man. "I apologize for it." He reached out to rub the cat's back. Pounce rolled over and exposed his belly with a contented yawn.

"Well," Anders faltered. "I thank you."

They both sat in awkward silence, pretending that their hands weren't touching in the cat's fur.


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks to everyone for the wonderful reviews and alerts. It means a lot to me!

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><p>"Does he think I need more work or something?" Anders said as he watched another recruit go sailing down the practice yard. "I mean <em>really<em>, this is getting ridiculous." He tilted his head to the side and watched in sympathy as said recruit wobbled to his feet.

For the past week, ever since Fenris had awakened, the elf had come to the practice yard every day. He was the first one there when the sun rose and the last one to leave, well past dusk. When the wardens and the recruits had seen the deceptively lanky elf walk into their midst, they had laughed. One of them had called Fenris delicate and too pretty to be there.

Fenris set out to dissuade them of that notion with a ruthlessness that bordered on coldblooded.

Anders had barely spoken to the elf since that day in Fenris' room. It was as if Fenris was going out of his way to avoid him. Anders found himself coming out to the wall walk near the infirmary when he had free time. It gave him a good view of the practice yard and the elf that was determined to exhaust himself.

Today he wasn't alone. Aedan braced his arms against the parapet in a parody of Anders' stance, and the men looked down to where a warden was approaching Fenris, a shield raised in challenge.

"_That_ will not end well," Aedan noted idly. "I've seen him shatter a shield before." They both winced as Fenris' first blow did exactly that.

"And now I'll have another broken arm to fix. The blight take him. Why is he doing this?" Anders shook his head in exasperation.

"I think the blight taking him is why he's doing this," Aedan pointed out. "The taint affects us all in a different way. Some of us become oversexed. Others become aggressive." He nodded towards the practice yard. "His mind will settle. Give it time."

"So you're just going to let this continue on?" Anders swept his arm in the elf's direction. "He won't talk to me. He won't talk to anyone."

"He'll settle, Anders. I've seen this before. Besides, it's become a game to the other wardens and recruits now. They all want to be the one who can take him down."

Anders raised his eyebrows at his tone. "You're enjoying this!" he accused. "Look, you're smiling. I can't believe this. How much money do you stand to lose?"

The other man held his hands up. "Not me. Although the betting pool has gotten higher with each day he goes undefeated. Oghren is the one who thinks he knows who will take him down. I'm curious to see if he's right."

"Wait. Who?" Anders asked despite himself.

"Only person who could take that monster of an elf down," Oghren said as he walked up to them. He carried a wooden box and set it down next to Aedan. With a look that dared either of the humans to comment, he stood on the box to peer over the parapet.

Some things in this world were immutable. Anders had learned that Oghren the dwarf was one of them. He still stank, drank too much, and told the filthiest jokes that Anders had ever heard. His hair had changed over the years, becoming the strawberry blonde color that most redheads seemed to get with age.

"Am I late?"

Anders rolled his eyes at Isabela's voice. "Am I the only person that didn't get an invite to this party?

She patted him on the head like she was placating a petulant child. "But you're always here, honey bottom. Why invite the owner of the house?" She gave a small cheer as Fenris took down another opponent.

"You're not late. He's waiting for Fenris to finish with this last batch first." Aedan nodded his head towards one end of the practice yard, drawing everyone's attention.

"Maker…" Anders breathed.

Oghren chuckled. "Told ya. It takes a deadly elf to fight another." He rubbed his hands together as if they were already full of the coin he was about to win.

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><p>Fenris raked his sweat soaked hair from his face with his forearm as the warden he had defeated was led away, cradling his broken arm. He had been continuously fighting all morning and the sun was now high above him. He felt a trickle of sweat run down his spine and the slight burn in his muscles.<p>

It wasn't enough.

Every day since that first morning when his new brothers-in-arms had decided to test his mettle-he came here. He had shown them what he was made of, and he continued to do so until he couldn't see straight and his body felt like rubber from his exertions.

He felt such anger that he couldn't seem to contain it. Forcing his body to work took his mind from it and gave his rage purpose. He fell into a deep sleep each night, unable to dwell on what he was feeling.

The fabled Grey Warden stamina was not a legend. Fenris could fight for far longer than he could before. Any injuries he sustained healed quicker than normal. Already stronger thanks to what Danarius had done to him, he was able to put more power into each swing of his sword. Keeping himself in check so he didn't kill anyone he was sparring against, gave him focus.

He rolled his neck on his shoulders and looked around. Those that normally gathered to watch and participate had gone suddenly quiet. He spotted why instantly.

Zevran strolled through the crowd and towards the middle of the practice yard. His hair was tied back and off his neck. Shirtless, his golden skin was bared to the sun. He stopped a few feet in front of Fenris, and placed his hands on the wicked looking pair of daggers strapped to his leather clad hips.

His stance was casual, but the assessing look in his eyes was anything but. "Shall we dance?" He raked his eyes up and down Fenris' body in a move that was deliberately provocative.

Fenris shifted his weight and planted his feet firmer into the ground. "I won't hurt you. The Commander wouldn't like it."

"No. He was most unhappy with me when I told him I was coming." Zevran laughed and began to circle Fenris. He turned his head to keep the other elf in his sight. "But not because you'll hurt me."

Zevran moved around Fenris, his limbs languid. Fenris knew what the other elf was doing. He wanted Fenris to relax enough to drop his stance before his first strike. He decided to oblige him and lowered his sword in the appearance of imprudence.

When Zevran came for him, Fenris was ready.

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><p>"Zev has become as tired of watching Fenris exhaust himself on the wardens of the keep as you have," Aedan explained as they watched the two clash below. "He seems to think it's more than the taint that's driving him."<p>

Anders clutched the stone under his hands and felt it bite into his flesh. "This is a bad idea. Zevran doesn't know Fenris."

"I agree with you," Aedan shrugged. "But he knows people. If he says it's more than the taint, then I have to give him the benefit of the doubt." Anders notice that for all his casual tone, Aedan's knuckles were just as white as his was.

Down below, Zevran had taken to darting in and out of the range of Fenris' sword. It was easy to tell that he was trying to tire Fenris out so he would make a mistake. Fenris seemed to realize this too, and each swing became more focused as he attempted to anticipate where Zevran was going to come at him next, instead of slashing out to where he was.

"Oh. This is delicious," Isabela purred. "All that dangerous elf with sweat dripping over those fine muscles. " She shivered. "When do you think that the blood lust will turn into real lust? And do you think they'll let me watch that too?"

"Don't you have a ship to get back to," Anders snapped.

"I've already told you, as long as it keeps being interesting here, I'm staying. My crew are having a blast spending Aedan's gold. I don't need to be anywhere just yet." She craned her neck to get a better look at the fight. "And it just got _very_ interesting."

Anders followed her gaze and felt his eyes grow wide. "What in the void is he doing?"

"Evening the odds, I'd say." Oghren grinned and rubbed his hands again.

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><p>When the last of Fenris' armor hit the ground and sent a small cloud of dust up, he ripped off his tunic and tossed it aside as well. If Zevran was looking to tire him out, then Fenris would do as the assassin did and forego his armor. A slight breeze blew through the yard cooling his sweat slicked flesh, and his skin prickled.<p>

Zevran waited patiently. "If I had known fighting you would get you out of your clothes, I would have done it days ago. But my loss is now everyone's gain, yes?"

"No." Fenris kicked his armor out of the way and settle once more into a guarded stance. "Do you ever stop prattling?"

"Why should I? I'm such an interesting elf." Zevran flashed a grin and flew towards him. Fenris had just enough time to bring his sword up to block both of Zevran's daggers as they came for his heart. Steel ran against steel in a teeth clenching screech. Fenris narrowed his eyes as the assassin leaned in close, his tongue darting out to lick at Fenris' ear.

"Did he just lick his ear?" Anders asked incredulously. "I did see that, right? What game is he playing?"

It was Aedan who answered. "The game of life and death. Zevran is a trained assassin. They don't fight the way that you and I are use to. They defeat a person's mind first."

"I can't let him do this." Anders turned but was stopped when a large hand grabbed him by the upper arm.

"You can and you will. As he is now, he's a liability. I wanted to wait for the Joining to settle, but Zevran thinks that Fenris will get a lot of people killed if he isn't checked. You're a warden, you know the risks." Aedan let him go when Anders looked away to turn back to the fight.

"If something happens to him," Anders warned, "I won't forgive you." He felt more than heard Justice's agreement.

"I know."

Fenris pushed Zevran back and wiped his ear furiously with his shoulder. "You're disgusting," he snarled.

"Am I?" Zevran ducked Fenris' sword and rolled to his feet in one graceful movement. "More disgusting than your former master?"

Fenris let out a sound of rage and swung again, this time it was more uncoordinated. "You will hold your tongue!"

"I'm sorry." Zevran sounded anything but. "I was just wondering. One hears so many stories of the magisters and their… proclivities." He moved out of the way of another wild strike. "I know your master yet lives. Does he know where you are?"

Fenris screamed in anger and rushed at the other elf, his eyes wild. Zevran was able to sidestep the charge, and his foot lashed out to connect with the small of Fenris' back, knocking him to the ground. He got to his hands and knees, panting as he pushed himself to his feet.

The assassin continued his relentless questioning. "Do you think he'll come for you? I'm sure all that lyrium was expensive. I know I would, if I owned such a slave."

"I am not a slave!" Fenris cried. He dropped his sword as his brands flared. He was on Zevran, quicker than anything than the other elf had ever seen. His own weapons fell from his hands as Fenris took him to the ground.

Pain seared trough Zevran and he looked down to see Fenris' hand in his chest. He could feel his fingers wrapped around his heart. Fenris drew in close and hissed in his face. "No one calls me that."

Through the pain, Zevran could hear the shocked cries of the other wardens and Aedan's scream of fury. "Then," he gasped out. "Do not… act like… one…"

"Do not presume to know me," Fenris whispered, his voice laced with deadly intent.

"Do not… presume to know… me." Zevran was having a hard time making his words comprehensible. "I had masters… once…killed them all…"

Fenris jerked his hand out of Zevran's body. The blonde elf gasped and clutched at his chest, assuring himself that there was no hole where his heart should be. He had known the risks in pushing Fenris as far as he did. But he had seen no other way. Fenris needed to see through his anger and realize that there were others out there that had gone through he same thing. He needed to see that there were others that had come out of it alive and whole.

The Joining did strange things to people. It could bring out the worst, or the best in them. He had seen men go insane, even if they did survive the Joining. He didn't know why it chose the ones it did, just as he didn't know why some survived and others didn't.

What he _did_ know, was what it was like for a Tevinter slave. Zevran had been there many times over the years. The magisters weren't above using a silent blade in the dark if it meant getting rid of a rival. It had only been Zevran's status as a Crow that had prevented them from trying to enslave him once his jobs were complete.

He also knew that most of the magisters were insane. They were drunk with their own power and stories of Tevinter's days of glory. Fenris was proof of that. Only a mad man would think to inlay pure lyrium into another's flesh.

He couldn't say he wasn't entirely self serving when it came to helping Fenris. If a magister would send his apprentice to Kirkwall after the elf, then he would come to Aramanthine. He needed to know that the other elf could do what needed to be done if that happened. He had to assess for himself that Fenris wasn't going to bring down danger on Aedan.

Fenris' hands clutched convulsively into the dirt. He turned his head away from Zevran. "I apologize," he rasped. "I forget that you use to be a Crow. Even Tevinter slaves have heard of them."

Boots pounded on the ground and Fenris looked up in time to see a fist flying towards him. It connected with his jaw and sent him sprawling back onto the ground. Aedan loomed over him, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Get him back to his room, Anders. Or so help me, powers or no, I'll snap his fucking neck." He let Zevran run a reassuring hand down his arm when the assassin got to his feet, but his furious expression didn't change. He rounded on his lover and gripped him by the shoulders.

"I told you not to do this, damn you. Why don't you ever listen to me?" He shook the elf slightly and Zevran didn't fight it. "Stupid fucking asshole, he could have killed you. Do you have any idea of what that does to me?" His voice broke, heedless of their audience.

Isabela and Anders helped Fenris to his feet and urged him back towards the keep. The other wardens had scattered at Aedan's first enraged bellow. None of them had wanted to be in his way.

Isabela glanced back at them with a wistful sigh. "Anger sex. Damn, I wish I could see that."


	16. Chapter 16

A/N:

Two updates tonight. Thanks for the understanding on the delays lately!

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><p>Fenris sat down his bed, his head in his hands. Anders gave nodded to Isabela in thanks before quietly shutting the door to the elf's room. He stared at Fenris in silence as he tried to find the right words.<p>

"Mind telling me what that was all about?" Anders gave a mental wince. That wasn't exactly tactful.

Fenris dropped his hands and looked up. His eyes were filled with more pain than Anders had ever seen in them before. Fenris never allowed others to see any weakness in him. Anders thought it was ingrained in him as a slave. Dragging out what Fenris was really feeling was harder than prying liquor from Oghren's hands. He was also hard to read. Not that Anders was any sort of expert, not the way Zevran or Varric was.

"What if he's right?" Fenris asked. "What if Danarius comes here?"

"Would that be such a bad thing? Better he come here than finding you in Kirkwall in that mansion of yours." Anders laughed and tried for levity. "Or what if he found you at the Hanged Man while we were playing Wicked Grace. Can you imagine that? Varric would have to give up his deposit."

"This is no joking matter," Fenris snapped and got to his feet. He started to pace the room, his fingers tapping on his thigh in a broken rhythm. "What if this is all there is?"

"What's that suppose to mean?" Anders took Fenris' spot on the elf's bed. He had a feeling he knew where this weas going and that he wasn't going to like it.

Fenris stopped and threw his hands up to encompass the room. "This! I spent years waiting for Danarius to come to me and he never did. I killed that bitch of his and yet he still did not come. And now…" He began to pace again. "Now he no longer knows where I am."

"If he doesn't know where you are, then you're safe. Shouldn't you be happy about it?" Anders offered. He knew it had been the wrong thing to say when Fenris stuttered to a halt and turned angry eyes on him.

"Safe? I'll never be safe until the bastard is dead. My sister will never be safe." Fenris clenched his hands at his sides. "Not until I have his heart in my hands." His fingers twitched as if he could already feel the organ between his fingers.

Anders sucked in a breath. "You did believe Hadriana."

"Yes." Fenris pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead. "Before we left, I had found her and sent her money to come to Kirkwall. I wrote to Hawke a few days ago to ask that she send her on to Aramanthine. I can protect her here." Writing that letter had been humiliating. His handwriting had looked like childish scrawl and he hoped that it was comprehensible enough for Hawke to understand his need.

"Isn't that good news?" Anders stood and crossed the room towards the elf. "Fenris, talk to me," he pleaded.

Fenris shook his head. "You don't understand. You've always known who you were. What if she doesn't want to see me? What if she tells me about myself and it turns out…" He stopped, unable to continue the thought.

"You're afraid," Anders whispered as understanding dawned. "You're afraid of what you'll find out about yourself."

Fenris touched at the brands on his arms lightly. "I did not lose everything when I was given these. I could walk and speak. I knew how to use a cup and fork. My life-who I was and where I came from-all that was gone." He dropped his hands and they hung limply.

"Do you know what kind of slave can fight?" He didn't wait for Anders to respond. "They are the most prized and the most reviled. A fighting slave that can act as a bodyguard are born and bred for their brutality. They are at the top of the pack in a slave hierarchy. Who cares about a kitchen slave when they can be replaced at little to no cost. A slave that will fight to the death for you and do it well…" Fenris shrugged. "They cost time and money that can never be brought back."

"What are you saying?" Anders said softly.

Fenris let out a bitter laugh. "I have always been able to wield a sword. Only the most loyal of slaves are given that privilege. I don't remember learning how."

"Fenris…"

Anders reached out to touch him, but the elf moved out of the way. "Don't touch me." He sat back down on the bed and rested his forearms on his thighs, his hands dangling around his knees.

"I've seen fighting slaves murder and rape on their master's command." He looked at his hands as if he could see the blood staining them. "What if I am as much of a monster as they were?"

"You're not—" Anders began.

"How do you know!" Fenris cried. "I certainly don't. I had thought when I saw Hadriana she would give me some clue as to what I was before. But she only gave me my sister. My sister who did not look for me. I never saw her when I was with Danarius. If she was free, why didn't she come for me? I can only conclude that she did not wish to see me."

Anders knelt in front of Fenris and took the elf's hands in his own. He held onto them tightly when Fenris tried to pull away. He could feel the calluses that had been built up from a lifetime with a sword. "If she comes, then you have your answer. You'll have all your answers."

Fenris lifted his eyes and gazed at Anders from under his lashes. "I don't understand why you want to think the best of me. You say these things to me and I want to believe them."

"You think you dislike me now?" Anders chuckled. "You should have known me when I was here, or in the circle. Hawke never would have found me in a clinic. I would have been at the Rose, spending all my coin. She would have had to drag me kicking and screaming to the Deep Roads. People change, Fenris. No matter who you were before, I know who you are now."

He touched the elf's cheek. "I lo—"

"Stop!" Fenris turned his head away. "Stop saying these things to me. Stop touching me. Just…stop."

_He doesn't understand_, Justice said quietly.

Anders hesitated a few heartbeats before leaning in close. "No. You're not alone in this Fenris. I meant what I said on the ship. And I mean it now. You choosing to believe in my sincerity or not is up to you. I know what I feel. I know what I've always felt." His warm breath moved over the soft hair falling around Fenris' face.

"You're a brave man. You befriended and defended Hawke even though she was a mage. You pulled yourself out of slavery and went out into the unknown on your own. You know what it's like to have your life dictated for you and you strove to rise above it. Maker, Fenris. What Danarius did to you should have killed you. The taint should have killed you."

The world shifted and Anders found himself on the bed and on his back. Fenris loomed over him, his hands clutching Anders' upper arms. They stared at each other, both of them panting through parted lips. Anders nervously licked his lips and green eyes shot down to them.

"It's not you that wants me. We both know it's your demon." Fenris tightened his fingers on Anders and the mage knew he would have bruises from them. "Danarius dangles a carrot in front of me once again, and the man isn't even here."

"That's not true," Anders said quickly. "I know what I feel. This has nothing to do with your brands."

"Do you?" Fenris mused. He glanced up at Anders and his markings flared. Justice let out a contented sigh and Anders felt his cock surge to life. Fenris lowered his body and put more of his weight on the mage. Anders robes hiked up around his thighs as he spread his legs to make room.

"Is this really you?" Fenris hissed in his ear as he ground into the man below him. His prick ached as it was pressed between his own body and Anders.

"Yes…" Anders groaned. His eyes slid shut and he arched his neck as the elf nipped at the flesh there.

"Do you think about me when he's not whispering to you? Do you get as hard as you are now?" Fenris' voice had become velvet over steel. The sound reverberated down Anders body, and he found himself pushing back against the elf, his hips rolling.

"All the time," Anders admitted freely as he became utterly shameless. "All the blighted time."

"Tell me," Fenris demanded as he worried at the skin of Anders throat with his lips and teeth. "Do you think about this?" He pushed at the hem of Anders' robes, shoving them up his body. His nails scratched down the mage's side, and his palm soothed the stings on the return trip.

"Oh, Maker." Anders writhed as Fenris did it again. A sharp pain followed by a soft caress.

"Tell me, Anders. Or did you think of simpler things?" Fenris was rutting into Anders now. Their cocks rubbed against each other through their layers of clothing. It hurt a little bit, the feeling of his smallclothes rubbing dryly over his prick.

"Did you think of my cock in your ass?" They were both panting heavily and Fenris' voice had become husky. "Did you dream of bending over for me and spreading your own ass wide?" Anders let out a needy whimper that he didn't recognize as his own. The images that Fenris was painting flashed through his mind.

"Or how I would shove my fingers in you and make you beg for it? I _would_ make you beg for it, mage. I'd make your body my plaything until you couldn't think anymore." The bed creaked under them and Fenris shoved harder against Anders, his pace picking up.

"All those things," Anders moaned. "All of it." He was going to come. Fenris' voice saying the things that Anders had always wanted to hear him saying, coupled with the pressure against his needy cock, was too much. Fenris was over him and all around him, turning Anders into a mindless, writhing creature. He was relentless, pushing Anders towards climax in the same way Anders pushed him into admitting his fears.

"Maker," Fenris gasped. Anders wrapped his arms around the elf and pulled him close, like he was trying to crawl inside him. Anders legs trembled as the muscles in his thighs clenched in anticipation.

Their lips met in a harsh and sloppy kiss, and Fenris' tongue dipped into Anders mouth. Anders hands scrambled for purchase on Fenris' back. He could feel the slightly raised lines of the lyrium brands on the elf's skin.

He broke the kiss and threw his head back, pressing the back of his skull into the mattress. Anders cried out, his mouth parting as he came. He forced his eyes open. He wanted to—no needed to—see Fenris as he came undone. The elf held himself under such tight control, only letting loose when he was angry.

Fenris' lips peeled back from gritted teeth and he hissed out a string of incomprehensible words in Arcanum. He pushed against Anders once last time, the muscles in his arms shaking as his body strained towards and found release. He gasped out Anders name and the mage clutched Fenris tighter. He collapsed and pressed his face into Anders neck, hiding himself from him.

Anders stared at the ceiling as they lay there, panting. His heart slowed down and the roaring in his ears dimmed. He swallowed a few times before he could speak. "I…"

Fenris tightened his hold on Anders and muttered into his neck. "Don't. Don't make a joke."

Anders lips twitched in a small smile, but he remained silent.


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you:

Shadowfox13

Untitled Dragon

Jounetsu-no-Hana

Pintsizedpsyhco

FenZev

Limpid Eyes

For the wonderful reviews!

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><p>Fenris tangled his fingers in Anders' hair, and pulled the blonde strands free from their tie. He didn't want to think of magisters, spirits and sisters. His limbs felt languid in a way that he hadn't been able to achieve in his days on the practice yard. His mind was blessedly free of thought, and he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting Anders' scent filled his senses.<p>

He'd never been good at talking about his feelings unless a copious amount of alcohol was involved, or he was angry. Hawke had a talent of pulling things from him, but that was just her and the way she had about people.

Anders was right when he said that he had helped and defended Hawke, even though she was a mage. Fenris knew that there were mages out in the world that weren't power hungry magisters. They were just people that lived and loved like anyone else. He lightly grazed his lips against Anders' neck and felt him shiver in response.

It didn't take a seer to tell Fenris that the road Anders was going down would lead to nothing but the mage's downfall. Fenris hadn't wanted anything to do with him and the ruin he would bring down on himself and those around him. He hadn't thought Anders was worth saving the way that Hawke did.

Fenris knew differently now.

He pushed himself up so he was resting his weight on his forearm. His other hand stroked down Anders' cheek. They couldn't stay like this forever. Already, the cooling semen against his skin and in his clothes was a disgusting reminder of reality. Anders had to return to the infirmary before someone was sent searching for him, and Fenris had to retrieve his armor. He also had to make his apologies to Aedan and Zevran before the human was left to stew any longer.

"I…" Fenris cleared his throat and tried again. "I care for you, Anders." He resisted the urge to look away when Anders' gaze shot to his. "Just give me time. I can't promise anything. Not yet. Not as I am now." The old Fenris, the one that had told Hawke she was nursing a viper, would have turned his back on him in disgust, or accused Anders of using blood magic to twist his thoughts.

But Zevran was right. Fenris needed to stop acting like a slave. A free man didn't hesitate when he wanted something. He went after it. When it was freely offered… Fenris would be a fool to turn down what Anders was giving him.

Anders gave him a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I've waited this long." He pulled down Fenris for a kiss that left them gasping when the elf moved back.

Fenris could feel himself hardening again, and he gazed at Anders from hooded eyes. He slid down along the mage, and pushed his robes up pass his chest. Anders moaned as Fenris left teasing kisses over his chest and ribs that were a little too pronounced. Fenris dragged his fingernails across Anders' skin, and the mage jerked with a groan when one nail caught and scraped along his nipple.

"Come with us," Anders moaned. "When Justice and I leave. Come with us."

The elf froze and slowly lifted his head. "And where would we go?" he asked carefully. He placed his palm over Anders heart, and felt the thudding of the organ.

Anders levered himself up on his hands and peered down at Fenris. "Somewhere we're needed. Not Ferelden or the Free Marches. We can't help the circles there. But there are other places we could go."

"When were you planning on leaving?" Fenris willed himself to think. His cock was full and ready, his body primed even after he had just climaxed. He trained his eyes on Anders and licked a path down the mage's chest, his tongue darting into his navel and nipping at the flesh there.

"In a month. The—ugh—infirmary should be ready by then." Anders lifted his hips to help Fenris pull down his smallclothes and take his boots off. "We can—Maker, save me—wait for your sister." The mage dropped his head back and spread his legs as Fenris smoothed his palms up his inner thighs. Maker bless Grey Warden stamina.

Fenris settled between Anders legs and hooked his knees over his shoulders. He turned his head and bit down on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, pulling back slightly until Anders was whimpering before letting go.

"Let me think on it," Fenris murmured, eyeing Anders' cock. The mage's prick was practically vibrating with anticipation. The head peaked out from its foreskin, and a bead of precum formed and slipped down his length. Without warning, Fenris caught it before it could disappear into tight blonde curls and followed its path back up.

"Andraste's blessed ass," Anders shouted. His arms were trembling and he almost fell back on the bed. He looked down his heaving body to see Fenris place a kiss on the tip of his penis. His furtive imaginings hadn't even come close to the reality of having Fenris—_Fenris_—right there, right _fucking_ there.

He'd died. He'd died and the Maker had decided that since Anders hadn't _actually_ blown up his house, that the mage deserved a reward. The Maker was good in his wisdom. Praise him and his golden glory.

Fenris moved away and Anders reached out for him. An undignified sound escaped his lips, but he was well pass caring. The elf ignored him and unlaced his pants. He pushed them down his hips, and Anders let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. He'd seen Fenris naked before, when he had cared for him after his Joining. This was so much better. The look Fenris was giving Anders just under his lashes was predatory.

He didn't give Anders more than a moment to look his fill before he was on the bed again, crushing Anders mouth to his own. He devoured the mage's mouth, forcing it open wider as he thrust his tongue inside. Their hands met and tangled as they pulled and tore at Anders' clothing, moving away only to dispense with the last of it. When they came together again, bare skin finally touching, they both hissed in a quick breath.

Fenris carded his fingers in Anders hair and yanked the mage's head back sharply. His gaze bore into Anders and he could do nothing but lay there, his mouth open and gasping for breath. Fenris traced his fingers over Anders' kiss swollen lips.

"Your mouth has always been a torment," he said as he slowly pushed two of his fingers between the mage's lips. "I've wondered what I would need to do to shut you up." He made a guttural sound of approval as Anders curled his tongue around the questing digits.

Fenris leaned in close and whispered into Anders' ear before running his tongue along it. "Shall I find out? Should I shove my cock pass those lips of yours, and give your mouth something else to do?" He leaned back and pushed Anders flat on the mattress with one hand on his chest.

He pulled his fingers free with a lewd pop and Anders groaned. "Fuck yes, please." Fenris climbed on top of Anders and straddled the mage's chest. He braced one hand on the wall next to the bed, and gripped the base of his cock with the other.

His prick was already leaking freely in his excitement, and he rubbed the head along Anders' lips, painting them with precum. Anders tilted his head back, his tongue darting out to swipe at the elf's cock. With his bottom lip between his teeth, Fenris pushed his cock into Anders mouth.

Once the head was pass Anders' lips, he let his teeth graze just slightly along Fenris' shaft. He felt the elf shudder above him and smiled around the cock in his mouth. Anders relaxed and swallowed, his throat muscles rippling along Fenris' prick. The elf cursed in Arcanum and his hand slipped off the wall to wrap once more in Anders' hair.

"I'm going to fuck your mouth. Can you handle that?" Fenris rasped. When Anders slid his hands up Fenris' back in a reassuring caress, the elf began to move his hips. He pulled almost all the way out, and Anders tongue curled around him the same way it had with Fenris' fingers. He gave a few shallow strokes before going all the way back in to the hilt. His fingers tightened in Anders' hair, and his nails scraped along his scalp.

They fell into a rhythm. With each retreat, Anders would move his tongue and lips over him. With each entry, he would swallow, breathing shallowly through his nose. He could taste the climax from earlier on Fenris and he greedily licked at the flesh, cleansing it.

His own cock was neglected and his hips rolled, humping the air. Fenris turned his head at the movement and pulled his cock free. Anders' tongue chased after it, and his hands scrabbled for the elf when he moved away.

Fenris urged Anders onto his side and lifted the mage's leg. He mirrored Anders' position, and laid on his side, his cock inches from Anders' lips once more. Fenris rubbed his hands over the mage's backside, squeezing.

Anders could barely think straight. He was all sensation. Fenris was nuzzling the juncture where his thigh and groin met and Anders felt his cock jump, throbbing in time with each heartbeat. He opened his mouth and let Fenris' prick slide back in, and let out a muffled yell when he felt the elf licking a path from his balls to his ass.

They curled around each other, the only sounds the occasional moan and the wet suction of Anders lips. He felt a tongue lave at his entrance as Fenris pried his ass cheeks apart to gain better access. His prick was trapped between his stomach and Fenris' chest, and Anders ground it into the elf.

Fenris' taste on his tongue, the elf's tongue in his ass, darting in deeper each time it entered, had Anders mindless. He became this writhing, panting thing, where the needs of the flesh were greater than all. When Fenris wiggled a finger into his ass, Anders almost lost it right then, his balls drawing up tight.

When Fenris finally sank down on Anders' prick, taking the whole thing in one swallow, Anders started reciting the canticles. As much as he wanted to come, he didn't want this to end. He teetered on the brink of orgasm, where everything narrowed down to that place between his legs. His whole body-his whole being-felt like it was being pulled out of his cock and into the tight, wet warmth of Fenris' mouth. He was only anchored to the here and now by the prick in his throat and the finger in his ass, which was going deeper and sending sparks off behind Anders' closed eyes.

Fenris pushed in a second finger and Anders came undone. He cried out around the hard flesh that gagged him, his hips bucking as he came. Fenris' cock turned to steel and the elf was muttering against Anders' thighs.'

"Take it all down and hold it. Fuck, like that. Do it again, Anders." His nails dug into Anders' ass, and his thighs shook around the mage's head as he rasped brokenly. He let out a strangled shout and his cock started jerking, pouring out over Anders' tongue. He swallowed the bitter liquid as his hands soothed up and down Fenris' back, calming him while his body trembled.

Anders gave Fenris' now limp flesh one last kiss before moving out from between the elf's thighs. He turned around on the bed to face Fenris, and gave him a sleepy smile. He opened his mouth and Fenris clapped a hand to it. "Don't."

Anders chuckled against his hand and moved it away. "I wasn't going to make a joke. I was just going to say—"

Banging on the door interrupted him and they both craned their necks at the same time to look at it—freezing.

"It sounds like you two are having a lovely time in there," came Isabela's voice through the wood. "But I am being forced to tell you that there are people looking for Anders. He's needed in the infirmary." She paused and Anders could just see the sly grin on her face. "Of course, I could just say I haven't found you. If you let me have a little peek."

Fenris shot up from the bed, untangling his limbs from Anders. He picked up his smallclothes and grimaced at them in disgust before pulling his pants on without. When he turned to pull out a new shirt from the dresser, Anders saw faint scratch marks down the elf's back. He knew his was going to be worse. The sexual haze was wearing off and he could feel the stings of bite marks and scratches on his body. He rolled over on the bed and gave a stretch that would have made Pounce proud.

His clothes landed on his face and he sat up with a sputter. "Get dressed. I won't have that woman gossiping about us." Fenris ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to give it some order.

Anders grumbled as he got dressed. He waded up his smalls into a ball and hid it in his robes. He felt around the bed, looking for the tie for his hair. "Maker. The wardens are as bad as the circle. Never giving a man a chance to actually spend time with his lover." He grabbed up the blanket and shook it. "Where_ is_ that blighted thing."

"Leave it, before—"

The door knob rattled and Fenris turned a glare on the door, as if to penetrate the wood to the woman beyond. "Ten seconds, boys. I don't appreciate being a messenger."

Fenris strode over to the door and jerked it out of Isabela's hand. They stared at each other, Isabela with a wicked glee and Fenris with a simmering anger. He stepped back to let Anders pass. The mage paused, and gave Fenris a searching look, hovering between the hall and the room.

"I'll see you after the dinner bell," Fenris said. His voice was calm, as if they hadn't just had each other's cocks down their throats a moment before. He flicked his gaze to Isabela and back to the mage.

"See you then," Anders said softly as he stepped out into the hall. Isabela opened her mouth and Fenris slammed the door shut before she could get a word in.

Fenris turned back towards his room and stood there, his hands clenched at his sides. The place smelled like sex and Anders, and Fenris didn't know if he would ever get that smell out of his senses, or if he even wanted to. He opened his fist and a string dangled from his fingers. With a small smile, he wound it around his wrist and tied it off with his teeth.


	18. Chapter 18

Thank you to everyone for reviewing and reading! I feel humbled by the reviews.

A/N:

So I have had this chapter ready for two days, but did not want to leave with a cliffhanger.

I would also like to know, from a reader's perspective, what you would prefer. This fic isn't done, but when I come to it a certain point, I might break it off into a sequel. The summery would no longer fit. Would that be easier to read? Or shall I just keep adding to this current story instead of continuing in a sequel? Let me know what would be easier to read.

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><p>"I don't know what they've been feeding you, but you've gotten fat," Anders told the cat in his arms as he walked to Fenris' room. Pounce gave him an indigent meow and Anders shook his head. "Look, I'm your friend so I'll tell you the truth. You've gotten fat and that's all there is to it."<p>

He stopped in front of the elf's door and set the cat down. "But I still love you," he assured him as he bent down to scratch Pounce's chin. "You're big and beautiful. You don't let anyone tell you otherwise. They're just jealous of all that lovely cat to pet. Aren't they, my pretty?" Anders was only partially aware his tone had degenerated into baby talk. Pounce bumped his head against the mage's hand, and a rumbling purr poured out of him.

"Do you always talk to him like that?" Anders turned his head slowly to see that Fenris had opened his door, and was looking down on him with crossed arms.

Anders cleared his throat and straightened. "If I said no, what are the chances that you'd believe me?" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Little to none." Fenris moved out of the way and gestured into his room. "You're late. The dinner bell rang an hour ago."

"Maker, don't remind me. Oghren came to the infirmary with a list of complaints." Anders gave a shudder that wasn't feigned as he stepped into the room. "I was beginning to wonder if the smell of rot coming off of him was because he had missed his Calling. I mean, would he even know when it happened? Or will he turn into a rotting, ale swilling ghoul with an axe?"

Fenris walked over to his dresser and picked up a bottle of wine. "The dwarf knew where to find this. So his brain hasn't succumbed yet." He uncorked the bottle and filled two goblets.

"Seriously? You're using Oghren's ability to know where all the liquor is kept, as your evidence that his brain isn't decaying." Anders accepted the goblet held out for him. He'd noticed that Fenris had retrieved his armor and sword from the practice yard, and was once again covered in spiky leather and steel. Anders had always thought it was as real a pronouncement as the elf could get to warn others to stay away from him.

"Very true," Fenris conceded. He set his own goblet back down without having taken so much as a sip. His fingers drummed along the top of his dresser and Anders narrowed his eyes.

Something was wrong.

"All right. Let's have it." Anders walked over to the bed and sat down on it. "Is this is the part where you tell me that we've made a mistake? Or that you've realized you can't get pass the fact I'm a mage." He snapped his fingers. "I've got it! It's both! Plus I'm an abomination."

Fenris had stopped moving his fingers. "What are you babbling about?" he asked in exasperation. He scrubbed his hands over his face to wipe away his irritation, careful not to scratch himself with his gauntlets.

"That's not…" He sat down next to Anders on the bed, and sighed. He sounded more tired than Anders had ever heard him. "Drink your wine."

"For fortification?" Anders brought the goblet to his lips and tilted his head back, gulping it in one go. He gasped for breath and made a face. "I think it's gone bad. It has a strange taste to it." He eyed the empty goblet before Fenris plucked it from his fingers.

"I need you to know something," the elf began. He set the goblet down on the floor. He reached out and gently tucked a stray bit of golden hair behind Anders' ear. He'd had to make do with a bit of string he had found in the infirmary, and his hair had been slipping out of it.

Anders' eyebrows drew down sharply. "Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

"I need you to know," Fenris continued on, "that I will always do what must be done in order to protect you." His claws rasped over the shadow of a beard on Anders' jaw. "You may hate me for the things I do, but it's important that you know they are done with the best of intentions."

Anders grasped Fenris' wrist, arresting his caress. "What did you do?" he demanded. He blinked and he felt like a warm, heavy blanket had settled over his body.

"I promised myself when you were in the Gallows that if you had been made Tranquil, I would end your suffering. I make this promise to you again." Fenris' gaze bore into Anders', and his green eyes were full of deadly intent. Anders couldn't make himself look away. The feeling of dread that had settled like a rock in his stomach grew until he couldn't draw air.

"Wha…" His tongue felt too thick for his mouth, and he couldn't seem to form words with lips gone numb.

Fenris cradled Anders' face between his hands. "You have given me more than anyone else. I could do nothing less for you then to give you your freedom." For the first time since Fenris had spoken, he looked unsure of himself. Anders wanted to touch him, to reassure the elf, but his limbs no longer followed his commands.

He gently lowered Anders on the bed. "I do care for you, Anders. I won't lie and tell you that I love you. It's not something I know for a surety myself. But I need you to remember that you are cared for." He pressed his forehead against Anders. Their eyes were so close, that Anders couldn't seem to help thinking he was drowning in a sea of green as the room around him spun.

_Betrayed! We have been poisoned!_ Justice tried to surface, but came up against the same blanket of fog that covered Anders' mind.

"I won't let him have you." Fenris' promise was the last thing he heard.

The last thing he felt was a desperate kiss.

* * *

><p>Fenris didn't look up from Anders' sleeping form when his door creaked open. There was only one person that would come into his room. "Did it have to be tonight?" he asked.<p>

Aedan nodded and walked to the bed. "Wynn and the circle mages could not wait." He was wearing full plate, minus the helmet that would have obscured his face. He had a shield-that bore a griffon in flight across a landscape of deep blue-strapped to his back, and a sword at his hip.

Shortly after Isabela had come for Anders, Fenris had been summoned to a meeting in Aedan's office. Two wardens that he had not seen before and a group of mages were waiting for him, along with Howe and Zevran. At first, Fenris had thought it was to be a disciplinary meeting, but he was quickly disabused of that notion as Aedan spoke.

He introduced the elf woman as Velanna and the dwarf as Sigrun. Two wardens he had dispatched the day after he and Anders had come to the keep. They had gone to retrieve Wynn and the mages from the circle, and only now had returned.

And only now was Fenris hearing about it.

He had raged at Aedan for leaving him out of something that could mean life or death for Anders. Aedan had pointed out he was already on thin ice, and that Fenris was now part of a chain of command. As such, he was the last and newest link. They hadn't known if he would tell Anders, and thus inadvertently inform Justice of their plans.

Fenris had understood why they had left him out of it-he just didn't have to like it.

Nor did he have to like it when he was told that there was a chance that Anders might not survive what was coming. If that happened, then death or Tranquility was the only option.

Fenris had broken a chair, tossing it across the room to watch it crash into pieces against the wall. He had screamed at Aedan that death was the only option. He wouldn't allow Anders to go through a half life.

It had taken Wynn's soothing voice to calm Fenris down from that. They didn't have much time. Oghren could only occupy Anders for so long. He had instead paced the room, his fingers flicking against each other while he listened to what was going to be required.

And when Zevran had given him a small bottle, sealed with wax, Fenris had hesitated a heartbeat before taking it; his head bent as he listened to the other elf's murmured instructions.

Together, Fenris and Aedan picked up Anders and carried him out of the room. When Anders had asked him to come away with him and Justice, Fenris had known they were running out of time. Aedan and the others told him that Anders had cornered more than one of them to expound on the plight of mages. Fenris feared for the day that Anders disappeared completely, slipping out in the night—alone. Justice had seemed calmer the first few days they were back at the keep, but it appeared the demon was becoming restless.

Anders was dangerous, and Aedan could not allow him to roam free as he was. Justice was not the benign spirit the mage seemed to think he was. Justice was cold and unfeeling. Justice took no sides and pronounced judgment without bias.

But Vengeance…

Vengeance was anger. Vengeance was rage that simmered until it was satisfied. Vengeance came at you in dark, a knife in your back, a blade at your throat. It cared not for those that got in its way. It was secretive-it schemed and brought down everything to get to its endgame.

Vengeance was heartless in a way that Justice was not.

There was no Justice anymore, Aedan had assured Fenris. There was only Vengeance, and it had to be stopped, or else it would unleash chaos and take Anders down with him.

They made the trip quickly to the bowels of the keep. Between the two of them, they were able to navigate the stairs carrying Anders' dead weight. They stopped at a large door and Aedan kicked at it, his hands full. It creaked open and Zevran hurried to step back as they brought Anders in.

They laid him down in the middle of the room, and Zevran checked Anders pulse and peeled back his eyelids. "Good. You did not give him too much. What I gave you can be tricky. A little more and we would have no need to do this, yes?"

Fenris stepped out of the ring of candles that encircled Anders on the floor. "I am not a fool. I gave him six drops as you instructed."

"I don't think you're a fool, my friend." Zevran followed him and placed his hands on his daggers. He, like Aedan and Fenris, was fully armored. Three blades were strapped to his hips, and two more at his back.

Fenris rubbed at his wrist, where Anders' hair tie was below his gauntlet. Zevran seemed to have forgiven him. The elf had laughed and said all of his very best of friends try to kill him at least once.

Aedan was another matter.

"Shall we get started?" Wynn asked as she stepped into the circle. Mages formed an outer ring, with the candles as an inner one and Anders at its center. Aedan had wanted no one else to be a witness as to what they were about to do. He had staved off Howe's protests by telling him he was needed to watch the keep.

Aedan nodded and, as one, the mages lifted their arms and began to chant. Fenris gritted his teeth as the spell pulled on his brands. The magic brushed along his skin and his markings lit in response.

He didn't know how long the chanting went on, but Wynn was perspiring as the magic they called collected around Anders. She made a quick motion with her hands and Fenris took a step inside the circle. He saw Aedan and Zevran do the same in his periphery, before there was a blue flash and everything disappeared.


	19. Chapter 19

Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing!

A/N:  
>Long chapter is long.<p>

* * *

><p>Anders was going to be late. He ran through the ornate hallway, weaving through pillars of onyx inscribed with gold runes. He had his robe in his hands, and lifted the hem from his sandal clad feet. He crushed the rich blue material, heedless of the fine silver threads woven into the fabric.<p>

Slaves bowed and scurried out of his path, their eyes downcast lest they catch his unwanted attention. He didn't pause in his stride as he came to a large set of doors at the end of the hall. Two armed slaves recognized him and opened them, giving him deep bows as he passed.

The room was ablaze with light, every massive torch was lit. Anders stuttered to a halt and the doors closed behind him. His hands had left damp impressions on his robes and he dropped it, the fabric swirling around his ankles.

His eyes darted around the room as he caught his breath. They were all here, but hadn't started yet. All the expensive Orlaisian furniture that had graced the room was gone. The great rug that had depicted the hunt of the last unicorn was absent as well. The other mages in the room stood against the walls, chatting amongst themselves, as if this was any other party thrown at the manor. Slaves moved through the guests with golden trays holding an assortment of delicacies from around Thedas.

When the doors had opened, every eye in the room turned towards Anders. They eyed his crumpled robes and the way his chest rose and fell from exertion. A few smirked to their partners as if to say, 'Did we expect anything else?'

Anders would always be the oddity here. He would never be quite accepted, no matter how much power he had. He'd come to terms with it long ago, their whispers blowing past him like so much wind.

He swallowed and forced a charming smile on his face. "I see I'm not too late," he said as their host strode towards him.

"No. You have arrived just in time." Danarius gestured towards the dark haired elf on the only piece of furniture in the room. He was naked and bound to an altar with silver chains. Even from here, Anders could see the power moving across the surface of the metal links. No one would be able to break them.

"Fenris," Anders whispered. He fought to keep the horror off his face. He hadn't believed Danarius when the man had proposed his plans to him.

He had to stop this.

* * *

><p>Fenris didn't know where the others were. He stood against the wall with the other mages in the room, wearing a body that was not his own. Wynn had cautioned them that nothing in the Fade was as it seemed, and it would be a construct of Justice's and Anders' choosing.<p>

Anders had never met Danarius. The mage wearing his name looked nothing like the man, and Fenris found it easy to separate fact from fiction. This Danarius had blonde hair like Anders. It was cut short and the hairline was receding. His accent was all wrong, sounding nothing like Arcanum. Fenris knew who the man was masquerading as. Hadriana, who Anders had met, was clinging to him, her eyes adoring.

He needed to find Zevran and Aedan. It was unnerving to see a younger version of himself splayed out, his body a feast for the vultures encircling him. Fenris wondered if he had truly looked like that, his skin unblemished and his hair dark. He looked so vulnerable… He jerked his eyes away from the sight and glanced around the room.

He noticed two mages, a man and a woman wandering about the edges of the room. Fenris walked over to the male, a redhead. He paused, looking for something innocuous to say. It had to be something that only the three of them would understand. "I hear Oghren has taken a bath," Fenris said casually.

The man looked at him sharply before replying. "Zevran or Fenris?"

"Fenris," he whispered. He gave the woman a furtive glance and nodded in her direction, drawing the man's attention. Her eyes moved around the room, taking in everything. She saw the two of them and sauntered over.

"Zev?" Aedan asked cautiously.

The woman curtsied, showing off cleavage that would make Isabela proud. "Is there another? I don't think the world could handle more than one of me, yes?"

The doors opened and the room went quiet. Fenris turned to see Anders come rushing in. He heard Aedan gasp in surprise and he agreed with the sentiment. Anders wore robes that he could never have afforded in the waking world. He was clean shaven and his hair was unbound, draping passed his shoulders to snake down to his waist.

Danarius went to greet Anders, and they spoke too softly to be heard above the return chatter. When Danarius turned his back, Fenris could make out his name forming on Anders' lips.

Anders looked upon the younger Fenris with such tenderness and fear, that he felt something in the vicinity of his chest tighten in response. The mage had never quite looked at him so openly, and Fenris knew it was his fault that Anders kept a part of his feelings back.

"What is this?" Aedan asked.

"I assume this is when I received my brands." Fenris tilted his head towards Danarius. "That man is supposed to be the magister who gave them to me. The woman clinging to his side is his apprentice."

"And Anders?" Zevran raised an eyebrow. It was disconcerting to hear his voice out of a woman's mouth.

"From the looks of it, I would say he is here to stop it. Although why he and Justice would choose this is beyond me." Fenris touched his wrist. He could still feel his armor and sword, even though they were hidden from view.

"Is it?" Zevran gave him a knowing smile and Fenris looked away.

"It doesn't matter the reason," Aedan said. "We can't let him play this out." Without another word he pushed through the crowd, leaving Fenris and Zevran to follow.

* * *

><p>Anders knew he was outnumbered. No one here would lift a finger to help him if he attacked Danarius. But what the man was doing wasn't right. He'd had such dreams when he had come to Tevinter all those years ago. He had wanted to live freely as any other man. The reality of the Imperium had shattered his youthful imaginings quickly.<p>

Unable to leave or risk being hunted down, Anders had forged a place for him in Tevinter society. Circle politics were the same the world over, and Anders had played the game very well-until he had met an elven slave.

He and Fenris had met when the elf had delivered a message to Anders from his master. The mage had found himself searching for Fenris whenever he was at Danarius' manor. Through quick, secretive conversations, they had struck up a friendship—then something more. Anders couldn't say how it happened-how they had changed from friends into lovers, but Anders would not regret a single moment of it.

He'd made a mistake, though. He had shown an interest in Fenris and Danarius had noticed. He had wanted to buy the elf, offering far more money than Fenris was worth. Danarius had hedged, stringing Anders along with promises of considering the sale. Until two nights ago, when Danarius had told Anders he could not possibly part with the elf. He needed him for something grand, and wouldn't Anders just love to come and see?

What Danarius was planning was unspeakable, and Anders could no longer ignore the corruption of the magisters. He reached behind him and pulled out his staff, brandishing it towards Danarius.

"Danarius! I challenge you to a duel!" he cried. If he had thought the noise had been sucked out of the room when he entered, it was nothing compared to the silence that settled over it now.

"Shit," Aedan cursed. "What is that idiot mage doing?" They burst into the middle of the room. No one so much as looked at them, their gaze riveted on Anders and Danarius.

Danarius threw back his head and laughed. "You? I'm a magister of the highest order. What could a runaway circle mage do to me?"

"Anders…" With his eyes open, the Fenris on the altar pleaded with Anders. "Help me. You have to kill him. Give me my vengeance."

Fenris turned on his younger self, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion. He grasped Aedan by the arm, and felt cold steel instead of the fabric of fine robes. "There. It's not Danarius. It's… me…"

Aedan gave him a terse nod. "Ready yourselves." A sword and shield appeared, pulled out of the veil of the illusion covering him.

"Anders!" he shouted. He smacked his sword against his shield, garnering everyone's attention. You're in the Fade. Wake up!"

_You're in the Fade… The Fade… Fade…_

Anders clutched his head with hands, dropping his staff. He bent over, his hair falling forward to shield his face. "No! I won't fall for your lies, Danarius. I won't let you hurt another slave." His hand shot out and a blast of energy slammed into Danarius. The mage screamed as it consumed him.

Panting, Anders rushed over to Fenris. His hands shook as he touched the elf and pulled fruitlessly at the chains. "It's over. He's gone."

"No," the younger Fenris said. "It's not, my love. Three of his apprentices are still here. Destroy them before they take you from me."

"This is not good," Zevran said. The room was empty now, the other mages disappearing when Danarius had been too easily destroyed. Vengeance wasn't going to let Anders go without making them pay for the attempt.

"No, it is not," Fenris agreed. He pulled his sword from its sheath, and Zevran did the same, two daggers appearing in his hands.

"We are one. I will never leave you." Anders bent down and brushed a light kiss over Fenris' lips.

"And I will never let you go," Vengeance said. His eyes flickered with an inner blue fire.

Anders placed himself between the elf on the altar and the three mages that would separate them. "I will not let you have him. You'll have to kill me first." He would not allow them to take the one person that understood him away. Anders would have nothing. With Fenris, he had a purpose. Without him, he would return to the selfish man he was. Fenris gave Anders meaning, and had shown him that there was more to life than thinking of his own needs.

The elf had encouraged Anders to open a clinic for the slaves. Free from the prying eyes of the magisters, Anders helped those that could not help themselves. Once Anders' eyes had opened to the brutal reality of life as a slave, Fenris had taught him that there were far worthier goals, and Anders needed to be the one to free them.

He spread his hands wide and drew from the Fade. His hands glowed with power as blue fire raced up his arms. "I won't give him up!"

* * *

><p>"Move!" Aedan's shout came just in time as Fenris dashed out of the way of the spell. It slammed into the wall behind him and sent cracks spider-webbing across the surface. They dodged another spell, energy speeding passed them. Anders gave a cry of rage, this time putting more power into the spell. It caught Zevran and he flew across the room, blue fire licking at his clothing.<p>

"Zev!" Aedan raised his shield and blocked the next spell.

Behind Anders, Vengeance was watching the battle, its eyes glowing and a manic grin on its face. Fenris curled his lips at the demon when it looked at the elf. They were at an impasse, and the demon knew it. They couldn't hurt Anders, not without doing damage to him in the waking world. He needed to get to the demon. _He_ was the real foe.

"Anders," Fenris shouted. "This isn't real. You are in the Fade. That is a demon you are protecting."

"No! You will say anything, blood mage." Anders turned on Fenris. His power had spread from his arms to his chest.

"Do you see a blood mage?" Fenris countered. "Would a blood mage use steel when they could call upon demons instead?"

Anders' eyebrows drew down sharply and his hands lowered, some of the blue fire winking out. "No… I—"

"He lies," Vengeance snarled. "He will say anything to separate us. Do not believe him." The chains dissolved and Vengeance stood from the altar. Naked, he padded over to Anders and slipped his arms around him from behind. "Do not let him take me. No one understands you like I do. We have been together for so long, don't throw it away."

By the way that Anders' eyes glazed, Fenris knew he was losing him. "What about us? What about what we have together? Would you throw that away for what he promises you?" He held out his hand. "Remember what I told you. You aren't alone. You are cared for." The words that came out of his mouth were pulled from him, heedless of the audience they had. Now wasn't the time to prevaricate. Not when it meant Anders' life.

* * *

><p><em>You are cared for…<em>

Anders tried to take a step away from Fenris. The elf's arms were iron bands around his ribs, squeezing the air from his lungs. He suddenly felt trapped, and his hands clawed at Fenris' hands.

Something wasn't right. Everything felt wrong—twisted. The world around him wavered, and he caught a brief flash of another place-another room-spinning around him. He saw green eyes that demanded to be understood-that Anders remember.

"This isn't right. This—" He choked as Fenris constricted his lungs further, like a snake that would not let go of its prey.

Spots danced in front of his eyes as he looked up to the mage with the outstretched hand. The image of him and the apprentices rippled like water. He could just make out other forms under the surface before it smoothed over once more.

But it had been enough.

"I'm in the Fade," Anders whispered. His eyes widened. "Andraste's flaming knickers! I'm in the Fade."

The world collapsed.

* * *

><p>Vengeance was not merciful. It cared not for morality, or fair play. It hunted with Rage and Desire, twin hounds that nipped at your ankles while Vengeance drove you forth. It lied and schemed, turning brother against brother, and lover against lover. It was Justice, twisted with mortal need and emotion.<p>

And Anders had always felt such emotion.

"You would interrupt my feasting?" Vengeance rose up behind Anders, its true form revealed. The room was gone and they stood on a desolate bluff. In the distance, they could just make out the Black City, its spires twisting up towards a cracked sky.

Aedan remembered what Justice looked like, and this was no longer him. The demon shone with the same fiery blue, but his armor was battle scarred, twisted and rent in places. Two massive hounds from the Void panted at his feet, their tongues lolling between razor sharp fangs.

Anders turned and his eyes were wide with fear. His glorious robes disappeared, leaving him with his tattered coat. His hair fell away, and it once more swung around a shadowed jaw. The illusions around the three apprentices dropped, and Anders found himself reaching for Fenris. He took a few stumbling steps and grasped the elf's hand.

"What is happening!" he asked as he turned to face the demon in front of them. "Why in all the blighted Void am I in the _Fade_, and what is that!" Anders couldn't recall the last time he had been to the Fade. He no longer touched it when sleeping. Justice used that time to vicariously get back a little bit of the home he had lost. The last time he had been there, Justice had taken over and Anders had no recollection of helping Hawke.

Justice.

Maker, where was Justice?

The spirit should be here. He took over when Anders was in the Fade. Why not now? He reached inside himself and felt nothing where the spirit was suppose to be. He… His eyes slowly moved up the demon in front of them.

"No," he said, horrified. "That's not—"

"Oh, but it is, Fenris replied dryly. He'd watched the emotions dancing along Anders' face. "What was once him."

This was the most crucial part. Anders needed to reject Vengeance and all he stood for. He touched Anders' shoulder gently. "Do not let him sway you. He is no longer your friend Justice. You have said those same words before. Remember that."

Anders tore his gaze away from the monstrosity. "We have to help him."

"They will not help me," Vengeance laughed. "They seek to destroy me. Will you allow this, Anders? Will you deny that I have always been in your heart? I was born in you the moment you were ripped from your mother's arms. I was there when your father turned his back on you, denying your birthright. I grew when you saw your first Tranquil. I raged with you when you witnessed your first rape and were powerless to stop it. Together we did all we could to defy the chantry and the templars. Would you part from me when I have been your only comfort?"

Fenris felt Anders trembling under his hand and he gripped the mage tighter to still him. "He will consume you." Fenris reminded him. "Don't listen."

"The voice of knowledge speaks!" Vengeance laughed again. "You could join us. I could give you the vengeance you seek. The three of us could rip Tevinter apart, tearing it from the face of Thedas."

"How would that work?" Zevran asked as he spoke up for the first time. "How could you possibly give them both what they want?"

"He can't," Aedan answered. "He's reaching because he knows he is losing."

Vengeance gave a bellow of rage. The hounds lunged forward, their mouths gaping wide.

Aedan stepped in front of Zevran and raised his shield, taking the brunt of the attack. He staggered back, but his feet were planted firmly on the ground. Zevran darted around the hound that was trying to tear through Aedan's shield. His daggers flashed in the unreal light of the Fade, sinking into the hound's flesh with deadly precision.

Anders made a run for his staff, snatching it from the ground while Fenris held off the other hound. The creature had his sword between its jaws, caught in sharp fangs. He could feel its hot breath on his face, and he almost gagged from the stench. He kicked at the thing's head and pulled on his weapon at the same time, dislodging it. He shifted his stance and raised his sword high, bringing it down on the demon's head. It moved and he landed a glancing blow along its shoulder.

The demon raked its claws along Fenris' right leg and he almost collapsed from the agony. He felt a pull on his brands, and a caressing, healing wave washed over the wound, soothing the pain away.

When his markings flared, the hound hesitated. The whole Fade hesitated.

"The song…" Vengeance spoke with two voices, each overlaid on the other.

"Fenris!" Aedan called. "Do it again, quickly."

He nodded and clenched his hands on the hilt of his sword. His brands burst forth with power, engulfing him in their light. It felt strange, and at first, Fenris fought the sensation. Already in the Fade, there was nowhere else to move halfway into—except deeper. Dreamers did not go where Fenris was now stepping a foot into.

It felt like he was being ripped in half. It wasn't a physical sensation, but a spiritual one. Images danced before his eyes, and for a moment-for the barest instant-Fenris understood what Danarius had done to him.

The understanding was gone as quick as it came, wrest from his grip. He cried out in denial, as Vengeance cried out in fear.

"Maker," Anders said in awe. He, Zevran and Aedan were staring at a door that led deeper into the Fade. It hovered near the insubstantial form that was Fenris. The things they saw there—in that one glimpse—defied description. Anders felt something trickling down his nose and he touched his face. His hand came away with blood.

"Don't look." Anders rushed over to the others and stood in front of them, his arms held wide. "Don't!"

Aedan jerked his eyes away at the same time Zevran lurched towards Anders. "Get back!" the elf cried, as he took the mage to the ground.

Something was crawling out. Humanoid hands with unnaturally long fingers, gripped the edges of the doorway and a figure stepped through. The hounds tucked their tails between their legs and backed away—cowering.

Vengeance roared and fell to his knees. "I will not go back."

A woman walked onto the bluff. She seemed so small and fragile, but her presence commanded respect. She turned and smiled at them, and Anders couldn't help but smile back, a foolish grin on his face.

As she walked towards Vengeance, she lightly touched the hounds. They shrank, losing their bulk. Their teeth receded and one of them wagged its tail. "Go play," she said. The sound of her voice was lyrical, and Zevran laughed to hear it. As one, the dogs turned and disappeared.

"I will not go back," Vengeance said once again. "There is too much to do here."

She gave him a sad smile. "Justice, look at what has become of you." She gently stroked his face, and the demon shuddered, a sigh escaping him. "It's time to go home. You never should have left."

Justice took the hand she offered to him and got to his feet. His armor was was more unblemished, and his voice returned to its familiar cadence. "It has been too long."

He turned towards Anders. "I have wronged you greatly. There is nothing I can do that will make up for that. I can give you a piece of advice."

Anders' mouth worked a few times before he could speak. "It's… I mean…"

"Do not allow him back in the Fade," Justice went on. He pointed at Fenris' ethereal form. "He is dangerous. It is forbidden to open the ways only the First may travel. If he returns, I will have to stop this from happening again."

"He will not return," Aedan said suddenly. "You have my word on that."

Fenris was shaking, his body overwhelmed with the power coursing through his brands. He made a choked sound, unable to form words. He felt like he was going to fly apart, his being scattering across the Fade like ashes.

"We must go," the woman said. "The way will not be open for long." She took Justice's hand in her own and led him to the door.

"Wait," Anders called. "Who are you? Where are you taking him?"

She gave him a secretive smile. "I am Hope. I am taking him to return home among the First."

* * *

><p>Anders' eyes flew open. Candle light flickered around him and he heard frantic voices. Wynn's face came into view and she gave him a relieved smile.<p>

"Welcome back," she said. "Your friends are waking up. How do you feel?"

"I…" Anders voice cut off in a sob. He threw his arm over his eyes and hid from her gaze. Tears tracked down his cheeks, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his weeping.

Justice was gone. Anders had let down someone who had been a true friend to him. He had twisted him into something monstrous. He was glad that Justice had finally found a way home, but Anders was going to miss his presence. The demon had been right when he'd said that he knew Anders inside and out. That what was inside Anders could corrupt one of the First so thoroughly…

He hadn't really cried since he had been taken from his mother. But he did now, his body wracked with sobs. He couldn't seem to make it stop. It was like a festering wound that was finally being let. He cried for his friend, for the things they had done together. He cried for what he had done to Justice. He wept for the lonely little boy that had been snatched from his mother's side to be thrown to the wolves.

For Karl.

For those that he called friend and he had betrayed everyday with his lies—his assurances that he wasn't an abomination, when deep down, he knew otherwise.

Feet shuffled around him and a door closed, leaving him with the sound of his sobs as his only company. It only made it worse, that they would give him the privacy he needed when he didn't deserve it.

He jerked when hands pulled at his arm. He lifted it away to blink reddened eyes at Fenris. What must the elf think of him now?

"I know I look pitiful," Anders began. "Wouldn't Oghren just have a field day with this. The weeping, sissy mage. Wait, he wasn't here, was he?"

"Don't," Fenris said flatly. "Don't make a joke." He sat back on his heels and crouched over Anders. He looked tired and dark circles made his eyes seem hollow.

"Why do you always say that?" Anders asked, his tone fiercer than he had expected it to be.

"Because you do it when you are upset, or nervous." Fenris plucked at a loose thread on Anders coat. "You use humor as a way to deflect, and to escape uncomfortable feelings."

Anders eyebrows shot up. No one had ever picked up on that before, or they at least had never pointed it out so blatantly. He almost returned the favor by asking if Fenris was trying to unravel his coat.

"Your Danarius looked nothing like the man."

Anders sucked in a quick breath through his nose. "That's because he looked like my father." He rubbed at his face, and wiped off the tears that had not yet dried. "Or what I think he looked like. It's been so long now."

"You were taken from your family older than normal, if I recall." Fenris halted the movement of his fingers and Anders knew it meant he was keenly interested. If anyone deserved to know, then it was Fenris. Without him, Anders would have given himself to Vengeance.

"Have you ever been to the Anderfels?" Fenris didn't give him an answer. He knew that Anders wasn't looking for one. "Mountains, snow and hard people. They stubbornly cling to life there. My father hated me. I knew it, my mother knew it, the whole blighted village knew it. He resented my presence in my mother's life. I often wondered if it was me he hated, or that I divided her attention."

He looked away from Fenris-lost in memory. "I set fire to him one day. If we hadn't been standing by the lake, I would have killed him. He just won't stop hitting me and I felt this…pull. 'Burn,' I thought. 'I want you to burn.' The next day the templars came."

He had never told anyone that story. If he had it was edited, a filtered version where he didn't have to admit that his own father had thrown him away.

Fenris touched Anders' jaw, urging him to turn back. "It wasn't your fault."

Those words hit Anders like a punch to the gut. Fenris was speaking about more than the mage's father. Fresh tears stung his eyes. "Oh, Maker. I'd just fucking stopped."

Fenris chuckled and wiped at Anders' tears, catching them with his fingers. "Justice was never meant to share a body with another. If he had done it with anyone else, the same results would have happened. Your friend is where he belongs."

He raised an eyebrow. "I give you the same advice you gave me. Actions speak louder than words. You have made yourself greater than your beginnings. Never forget that."

Anders' back was hurting from the cold, stone floor. He pushed himself up on his forearms and gave Fenris a disgruntled look. "You're an asshole, you know that? Throwing my words back at me, as if I should practice what I preach. Low blow, elf."

The elf's lips twitched as he pulled Anders to his feet. "With you, I will take any advantage I can get." Neither of them wanted to speak anymore of what had happened in the Fade. Their emotions were too raw. Fenris still felt like he was about to fly apart at any moment, as if he what he had done in the Fade had created cracks in his soul, and the slightest touch would shatter him.

If he tried, he could just see the answers he had found in the Fade. They floated away from him in teasing dances, just out of his reach and understanding. It was nothing new, he assured himself. What was one more question whose answer was locked in his mind?

He shivered at the lie he told himself and gripped Anders hand as they made their way back up the keep. His skin felt like it was crawling.

Anders squeezed his hand and Fenris looked back at him. "We'll talk about it tomorrow," the mage said, reading Fenris' disquiet accurately.

Fenris nodded. "Tomorrow."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20! Thanks to all for reading, reviewing and for hanging in there with me!

A/N: I am sick right now, so I hope this chapter is coherent.

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><p>Despite their resolve, Fenris and Anders did not get a chance to talk about what happened in the Fade. Aedan took care of that for them. The Warden-Commander gave them one day to regroup before calling them into his office. They went over the painful journey in excruciating detail for Wynn and Howe.<p>

Fenris didn't see the need of reopening the wound for others. Aedan reminded him once more that the wardens were an organization, and there was a chain of command. Reports had to be filed, bureaucracy appeased.

There was also the matter of what Fenris had done in the Fade.

"I've never heard of such a thing," Wynn said, her face full of astonishment. "You say you stepped deeper into the Fade than dreamers go? How is that possible?"

Fenris twisted his lips in a scowl. "How was it possible that Danarius did this to me?" he retorted. Lifting his arms, he turned them so the brands between his armor shone clearly in the light. "How is it possible I survived this? I do not have the answers you want. Danarius did not confide in me while he was laying lyrium into my skin."

He had always known that Danarius had larger plans for Fenris than using him as an intimidating weapon. The man did nothing small. If he went through the trouble and expense to turn Fenris into… whatever it was, then it was done for a greater purpose. Fenris had a suspicion that niggled at the back of him mind as to what it was. He balked at it, his mind shying away from something too monstrous to contemplate.

"I don't know how you survived it." Wynn glanced at Aedan. "You say Justice made it clear that he was never to enter the Fade again?"

Aedan gave her a small nod of assent. "He was very adamant about it."

"Excuse me," Howe cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "This was the work of a magister. We know of something that could tell us the mind of one."

Anders, who had remained largely silent, shot to his feet, his chair scraping back on the floor. "No." He rounded on Aedan. "I can't believe that _thing_ is still alive. It's insane."

"That _thing _has helped us in the past. It could help us now." Aedan arched an eyebrow at Anders' tone. He had always allowed the men under him to have a voice in his decisions, but Anders and Fenris apparently took his leniency to the point of outright insubordination. Both of them liked to question him a little too much, and it grated on his nerves.

"At what price? Is he still taking blood as payment? No. I won't let him near Fenris." Anders' arms were flailing wildly in his agitation. "He might have been responsible for the last blight, for Maker's sake."

"That's enough!" Aedan shouted. He pointed a finger at Fenris. "And you. Do not say one word. I am commander here, as much as you two would like to forget that. Things aren't as lackadaisical as they were when you were here last, Anders. I've created order here and I mean to keep it this way. The wardens of Ferelden will not be caught off guard and used like they were in the past."

He lowered his hand and straightened his tunic, smoothing away his anger. "Now, I have a warden who was possessed and another who has powers that are dangerous and unknown. What do either of you think I should tell the First Warden about that? What do you think he will do?" Neither of them answered, and Fenris seethed at Aedan's tone. Being told what to do pricked at nerves still raw from his life as a slave.

"I'll tell you what he will do. He will send for you both, and I will lose my jurisdiction over you two. We cannot report this yet until it is resolved. Unless you want to go back to the land of your birth, Anders. Then by all means, ignore me. Nate is right-we have someone who might be able to tell us answers without alerting Weisshaupt."

Fenris did speak then. "Who?" His hands were clenched into fists on his lap. He understood that Aedan was the one in command, but it didn't mean he had to like taking orders.

"A darkspawn known as the Architect. He resides below us in the Deep Roads." Aedan pointed down at his feet.

"Right below us," Anders added. "The thing might as well just move into our basement."

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><p>Fenris picked up another bandage and rolled it into a neat, compact ball. He had been in the infirmary for two weeks now. His long, unarmored fingers made quick work of it and he pulled at another piece of linen from the pile. He could see why Marian had looked so bored when she was in the clinic in Darktown. This was beyond tedious.<p>

Aedan had informed him that it would take some time to locate the Architect, and that Fenris would just have to be patient-in the infirmary. It was his punishment for attacking Zevran and questioning Aedan so much. Every morning he rose at dawn and grabbed a quick breakfast of bread and soft cheese. He would then head down to the practice yard and run the other wardens through a series of drills and mock fights. When the sun raised high above him at noon, he was to eat lunch and report to the infirmary to assist in whatever was needed there. Aedan had told him that if he wanted to help break his wardens, then he could damn well help fix them.

Fenris knew what it really was about. He had given the elf a menial job, one meant to test his resolve in following orders. If Fenris could roll bandages and cut elfroot for several hours a day, then he could be relied on to comply with orders in the field.

He also had been stripped of his armor and weapons when he wasn't in the practice yard. Aedan meant to disarm him literally and figuratively. He had said there was no need to go around the keep battle ready. Fenris felt naked, wearing nothing but a plain black tunic and his leggings. In Kirkwall he had always been armed, ready for the day when Danarius came for him. He hadn't even let his guard down when he had slept, his sword laying next to him like a lover in his decaying mansion. It had been macabre, but Fenris had known no other way. Aedan was going to force the elf to change whether he liked it or not.

Since the night that they came back from the Fade, Anders had taken the place of Fenris' sword in his bed. The two of them curled up next to each other, their limbs tangling. It was never discussed, but each night, Anders came to Fenris' room, Ser Pounce-a-lot in his arms. The elf would let Anders in, and the two would strip down to their smallclothes before scurrying under the covers. They never did anything more than give each other light kisses, their hands staying above their waists before falling asleep. It was as if they both were afraid to go back to that all consuming need they had experienced before. With the intensity of the Fade still on their minds, they both needed something gentle and uncomplicated.

That didn't mean that Fenris didn't wake up hard and aching, Anders' scent in his nose, the blonde's skin under his hands. Fenris awoke before Anders did, the mage preferring to sleep in as much as possible before he was forced to rouse to go to the infirmary. He would take his time before getting up from the bed, his eyes moving over Anders' sleeping face.

It wasn't lost on Fenris that Vengeance and Anders had chosen to make Anders a magister-one that would go out of his way to help. He would lay there in bed, watching the way Anders' breaths came out in soft puffs between parted lips. Anders in the Fade had wanted to spare Fenris from the pain the ritual would cause him. He had challenged Danarius, despite being in the magister's own house. That none of it was real made no difference. The Fade could not change Anders' core being. It could not change that bare fact that Anders was willing to sacrifice himself to make sure that Fenris wouldn't suffer.

He glanced at Anders in his periphery. The mage was leading a small lesson about the best way to mend broken bones on the battlefield. Three young wardens with the promise of becoming healers huddled near him, their gazes rapt as he spoke.

The soft pull of Anders' magic on his brands was a torture. Each time it slid along his skin and settled in his groin, Fenris had to will himself to calm down. The memory of the afternoon they had shared still clung to his mind, taunting him with what he could have if he just took it. The taint had settled, but he still felt anger and the need to mark Anders as his own, fucking the mage into the mattress until Anders screamed loud enough the whole keep knew whose he was.

Fenris couldn't lie to himself anymore about his feelings for Anders. It had begun so slowly, that one day he had woken up to the mage's sleeping face, and he had just known. Anders had come to mean more to him than anyone else. If actions did speak louder than words, then Anders had shown Fenris time and again that he loved him.

Hadn't Fenris shown the same thing?

His eyes narrowed and his thoughts scattered. The linen in his hands tore, the edges fraying and splintering. One of the wardens—what was his name?—had a hand on Anders'. He was slowly caressing up and down Anders' back, his face uplifted and smiling at something the mage said.

Fenris saw red. It descended on him in a haze, and he was on his feet before he knew what he was doing.

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><p>"So you want to make sure that the bone is set before you heal it," Anders said. He illustrated his point on the leg bone of a pig he had collected from the kitchens. He put the pieces together and mimicked casting a spell. "Start with the bone first. If it has broken through the skin, you might need help in pushing it back in. Make sure you pull out any pieces that have splintered off. That's very important."<p>

He felt a touch on his back and turned a startled look on Christopher. The young warden had been relentless in his pursuit of Anders. It didn't matter that he had told him he was not interested. He would use any excuse to touch Anders, giving him looks that was meant to seduce. It reminded Anders of his seduction of Karl. The older mage had balked at first, but Anders hadn't taken no for an answer in his youthful zeal. He felt guilty now he knew how it felt. But he hadn't pushed Karl the way Christopher was pushing Anders.

The smell of leather and the oil used to polish a sword wafted behind him, giving him the only warning he had. The hand on his back disappeared and he was spun around to face Fenris. The elf was angry, and he had Christopher's wrist in a punishing grip, his lips peeled back from his teeth.

"Is it necessary to touch your teacher to learn?" he asked the younger man, his voice deathly quiet. The infirmary had gone silent, the attention of the other wardens drawn to the spectacle playing out before them.

Christopher's brown eyes widened in fear, and they darted back and forth between Fenris and Anders. "No… I—"

"Then do not touch him. If I see it again, I'll take your hand. You do it once more, and I'll take them both." Fernis leaned in close, giving Christopher no chance to look anywhere else but at the elf. "He does not want you. Do I make myself clear?"

Anders sucked in a quick breath. He froze in shock, unable to act at first. Fenris was jealous. A part of him reveled in it, but the other part, the ration part—_yes_ he did have one—was horrified. Fenris couldn't go around and threaten everyone who he thought—rightly or wrongly—was hitting on him.

He touched the back of Fenris' neck, his fingers stroking the skin there. "Let him go, Fenris. He meant no harm." He touched Fenris gently like a wild animal as Marian had once done, his voice pitched to sooth. The elf slowly turned his head, his eyes blazing.

"You would stand up for him?" he hissed.

Anders gave him a weak smile. "No. I can't have you breaking him. I need all the healers I can get."

Fenris made a disgusted noise with his tongue and dropped Christopher's hand. The young warden cradled it to his chest and shot Anders a grateful look. Fenris saw it and opened his mouth, but Anders tightened his fingers on his neck, urging him to walk away.

"We'll continue the lesson tomorrow," Anders called to the wardens, as he pushed Fenris towards the door. Fenris didn't hesitate, allowing Anders to move him away from Christopher and out of the infirmary.

They didn't speak until they were across the keep and moving up the stairs towards the west wing, where their rooms resided. "What's the matter with you?" Anders asked. "You can't just attack someone like that. It's why you're in trouble with Aedan in the first place. Do you _want_ to be punished?"

Fenris brushed Anders' hand off his neck. "Don't. I saw the way he was looking at you. Am I supposed to ignore it?" They reached the top of the stairs and Fenris kept moving, leaving Anders to trail along behind him.

"You're supposed to let me deal with it. Despite popular belief, I _am_ a grown man and can make my own decisions. I don't need you to do this…" he waved his hands at Fenris' back as he sputtered. "This alpha male thing. Christopher would have given up eventually and moved on to someone else."

Fenris pushed open the door to his room when they reached it with such force, it banged against the wall. He stood in the middle of the room, his hands clenched and his head bowed. "I cannot bear the sight of another touching you. I have spent the last two weeks with his eyes on you. He's lucky I haven't plucked them from his skull."

"Don't." Anders parodied what Fenris always said to him. Closing the door, he moved to wrap his arms around the elf, his chest to Fenris' back. He could feel the tension along his spine, and he rubbed his hands up and down Fenris' arms. "No one is going to take me from you. I'm not so fickle."

"Do not lie," Fenris muttered. "I have heard the stories from your time in the circle."

"Now you are being deliberately provoking. I'm not going to give you the fight you want." He dropped his arms and sat down on the bed. "Go find Aedan if you want that." He scratched at the stubble along his jaw, considering. "In fact, now that I think on it, maybe that's why you two don't get along. You both have the temper of an enraged orc." He put a finger to his lips, a gleam in his eyes. Fenris was right when he had said that Anders used humor when he was uncertain or uncomfortable. It didn't seem he could help himself.

"I wonder if he's as built as an orc as yo—" Anders found himself pushed back on the bed, Fenris looming over him.

"Do not speculate on the Warden-Commander's genitals," Fenris demanded. "Now who's being provoking?"

The world held its breath as they stared at each other. Anders licked his lips, his eyes drooping almost shut. This was what he wanted from Fenris, not the gentle elf that clutched Anders to him at night after chaste kisses. They had been dancing around each other for weeks, and Anders was tired of it.

"Maybe I am," he admitted. "Is that such a bad thing?" He lifted his head and crushed Fenris' lips to his own. The elf immediately responded with a ferocity that bordered on overwhelming. Anders wasn't the only one sick of the dance.

Anders slid his hands up Fenris' back, his fingers bunching the material of his tunic and pulling until he could touch bare flesh. Tracing the raised skin of Fenris' brands, he moaned as the elf pushed up at his robes, his nails scratching along Anders' chest.

That slight bit of pain that Fenris gave him was heady. After the afternoon they had spent together, Anders hadn't healed any mark on his body, reveling in each sting hours later. He had never thought that Fenris would be any other way. The elf was too intense for a gentle lovemaking.

Fenris leaned back and whipped his tunic off, tossing it behind him to the floor. He moved away from Anders far enough to pull at the ties to his leggings. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband, lifting his hips and paused. "If you don't want this, leave now."

Scrambling to off the bed, Anders laughed. He removed his coat and robes, adding them to the pile on the floor. "Are you insane? I've waited too long for this." He hopped on his feet as he pulled his boots off.

Fenris gave Anders a small grin and slipped his leggings off. He knelt on the bed and pulled a naked Anders back onto the mattress. The mage crashed on top of him, and he stopped himself from crushing Fenris by slamming his palms on the bed. They both drew in sharp breaths as their cocks rubbed against each other. Anders rubbed a hand along Fenris' neck and chest.

"I love you," he whispered. Anders yelped in surprise as Fenris growled and rolled them over, taking the dominate position once again.

"You're an idiot," Fenris mumbled against Anders' skin. His tongue and teeth created a path of pleasure along Anders' collarbone.

"If it means I get more of this—ugh—then I'm the biggest idiot in Thedas."

Fenris ran his hands up Anders' thighs, spreading them and urging the mage to wrap his legs around his waist. He coaxed a gasp out of Anders when he rolled his hips, their pricks rubbing against each other in a delicious slide of hard, leaking flesh. Anders clutched at Fenris' ass, pulling him closer as he panted into the elf's mouth.

"What do you want, Anders?" Fenris asked, his voice husky with need. He moved again, and Anders could feel the rolling motion of his muscles under his fingertips. He threw back his head, his eyes squeezing shut.

"You," he groaned.

Fenris nipped at Anders' jaw. "That goes without saying. Tell me, mage." Fenris hardly ever called him that anymore, but when he did it this time, it had the sound of possessiveness to it. The elf slid down Anders' body, his mouth moving over his chest. He grasped a pink nipple between his teeth and bit down, his tongue lashing at the sensitive flesh he had trapped.

"Oh, Maker!" Anders tried to twist away. The feeling was almost too much, but Fenris clamped his hands on Anders' sides, pinning him to the bed, forcing him to take it.

"What do you want, Anders," Fenris demanded once more. He moved to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. At the same time, he moved his taut abdomen over Anders' dick. Anders gave a hoarse shout, his cock throbbing in time with his abused nipples and leaving streaks of precum on Fenris' skin.

"I want to come," Anders babbled. "Please let me come, Fenris."

He felt Fenris' smile against his chest. "No," he rumbled.

Only Fenris had the ability to reduce Anders to a quivering ball of need so quickly and utterly. The elf was magnetic, drawing Anders out to do and say things he would have never done with another.

He felt Fenris moving and opened his eyes. He looked down his body to see the elf's head disappear between his legs. Fenris gazed at Anders as his tongue traced each vein on the mage's cock.

"What do you want, Anders." Fenris cupped his sac and rolled them gently between his fingers. His tongue darted into the leaking slit of his prick, gathering up all the slick liquid collecting there.

"Your mouth you bastard," Anders moaned, the insult lacking any heat. His body jerked as Fenris raked his teeth along his shaft.

"Not good enough." He lifted Anders' thighs, his hands gripping his ass and spreading him open. The wet path that Fenris laved between his balls and entrance had Anders gripping the sheets, twisting them in his hands. He nudged at the mage's sac with his nose, lifting them high against his dick. Anders couldn't catch a breath, his chest rising and falling while his heart hammered in his ears.

"Please, Fenris. Please," he begged. "Suck my cock. I need it. Just—" he cried out as Fenris complied. His lips formed a tight seal around his prick, the elf's cheeks hollowing out. Anders slipped his fingers through Fenris' hair, grabbing onto the silky strands He fought not to push him back where he needed him most as Fenris pulled away.

"Good boy, you beg so well." He ran his tongue over his lip and engulfed Anders once more.

If Fenris wanted to hear Anders beg, then he would beg. He would debase himself in any way that Fenris wanted, as long as he kept doing _that_ thing—that wonderful thing with his tongue. It stroked up Anders' shaft, curling around the head of his cock.

And, Maker, his hands, those callused hands that could take life so easily, cupped his balls, playing with them in nimble fingers. Anders went incoherent, his words meaningless nothings that poured from his lips.

"Fuck, more. Do it… Maker… Uhn…Love…" Anders clenched and released the muscles in his ass rhythmically as he fought the urge to thrust.

Fenris lifted his head, a string of precum connecting his lips to his cock. He licked his lips again, gathering up the slick substance with a heated glance, as if it were the most delicious thing that the elf had ever tasted. Anders' dick jerked wetly in response. He had never seen anything so hot in his life.

The elf placed two fingers against Anders' lips and pushed them past his teeth. "Suck," he commanded. "Get them nice and wet for me. Suck them like you're going to make them come." He growled under his breath before sliding his lips back over Anders.

Anders bobbed his head, his tongue moving between the digits in his mouth and saturating them with saliva. Fenris abruptly pulled them away and Anders dropped his head back to the bed. A wet finger circled his entrance and he forced himself to relax. It pushed in as Fenris swallowed him whole, taking him down until his nose was pressed into the wiry hair at the base of his shaft.

He lifted his legs and hooked them over his forearms, opening himself for the elf. His toes curled and his thighs shook as Fenris crooked a finger, searching for that one spot in Anders that would set off sparks. It was almost too dry, the saliva not nearly enough to make the fit easy. But Anders didn't care when Fenris rubbed against that sweet place deep inside him.

When he found it Anders cried out the elf's name, uncaring of who would hear him. With the mouth on his dick and the finger in his ass, Anders was stroked inside and out. His fingernails dug into his thighs, and he began to babble again, begging Fenris with everything he had.

"Please, Fenris. I want to come, please let me—fuck—come. Please. I'll do anything. Pleasepleasepleaseplease…"

Anders' body bowed back when Fenris pushed another finger inside him to join the first. He felt wonderfully stretched and full, but he knew that Fenris was so much bigger than a mere two fingers. His balls made the climb towards orgasm, and Fenris pulled on them gently, drawing them back down again. Anders made a primal sound of need deep in his throat.

His arms and legs trembled as he became mindless, his body an instrument that only Fenris knew the tune for, playing him with his fingers like a master. He wouldn't let Anders come until the song was finished.

Fenris pulled his mouth off of Anders with a wet pop. He rose above the mage and his eyes- fierce and piercing-fixed on Anders. His pupils were dilated, almost swallowing the green of his irises. Reaching over to the bedside table, Fenris fumbled with the drawer, showing for the first time how much he was also affected. He found what he was looking for and opened a small bottle.

The smell of elfroot permeated the room. Anders laughed. "So that's where it went. Did you steal that from the infirmary?"

Fenris poured a generous amount on his palm and set the bottle down. "It's not stealing if I made it. I had to cut the damned things." He stroked his shaft and coated it liberally. He threw his head back, groaning, and Anders let out a moan of his own. Seeing Fenris touch himself did something to Anders. He loved the way the elf looked, so unrestrained in his desire.

Switching hands, Fenris reached between Anders' thighs and shoved a slick finger into him. "Hold yourself open," Fenris demanded when Anders almost let his legs go. "Show me how much you want it."

Another finger joined the first, but Anders' eyes were on the languid movement of Fenris' hand on his cock. The elf squeezed the head on each upstroke, savoring the feeling before moving back down again. He rocked his hips into his encircled fingers, gasping in pleasure.

"Tell me what you want, mage. Let me hear it." His breath rasped out between parted lips.

"I want your cock. I want it so bad. Give it to me, Fenris, please. Give it to me." Their eyes locked as Fenris added a third finger, prying the mage open.

"You want my cock in your ass?" Fenris asked. "You want my dick inside you, reaming you out?" The elf's voice wrapped around Anders' mind, saying the things he had always wanted to hear.

"Fuck, yes," he gasped. "Shove your cock in me. I want it. Please."

Fenris removed his fingers and settled himself between the mage's legs. He braced himself over Anders with one hand-the other held his prick, rubbing it along Anders' gaping entrance. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, that you'll be reminded of it for days. Every time someone else touches you, you'll remember me." He crushed their lips together, his tongue forcing its way inside Anders' mouth, mimicking the push of his cock in Anders' ass. Anders opened his mouth wide, passively giving Fenris what he wanted as the elf bottomed out inside him.

Finally.

The feeling of completeness brought tears to his eyes. He had wanted Fenris for so long, that it overwhelmed him. He blinked rapidly, fighting the sting at the backs of his eyes off. They both froze, their breath see-sawing out of parted lips. The reality of what was happening swept away the intensity. Fenris carefully dropped his weight down, bracing his forearms against the bed. He cradled Anders' face in his hands, his eyes searching.

"I love you."

Anders' sucked in a shuddering breath. Fenris started to move without giving him a chance to reply. The elf's hips pulled back and then snapped forward, driving into Anders. Losing the grip on his legs, Anders wrapped them around Fenris' hips, digging his heels into the small of the elf's back.

They fell into a rhythm, their bodies flowing against each other. The bed creaked angrily under them, and Anders had to slap his palms on the headboard above him, bracing himself as he slid back. Sweat rolled down Fenris' face, his pace picking up.

"You'll take what I give you," his voice rasped into Anders' ear, the gentleness of earlier forgotten under the ferocity of his need. "Is this what you wanted, mage?" He angled his hips and surged forward, Anders yelling in pleasure as his prick stroked over the right place inside him. "My cock making you mine? Will you take it anywhere, at anytime? Maybe I'll bend you over that table in the infirmary, make that little asshole watch while you cream yourself for me."

Anders head thrashed on the pillow and dislodged his hair from its tie. He didn't know what was better, the pictures Fenris was painting with that voice—that _voice_—or the relentless cock inside him, pushing him, driving him towards climax.

His own dick was trapped between their bodies. Each advance and retreat of Fenris' hips rolled along his shaft. Rutting into the elf's abdomen, he could feel his balls drawing up tightly once more.

This time Fenris wasn't there to stop it.

"I'm going to come—Maker—I'm going to—" He cried out when Fenris bit down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, sucking on the skin.

"Come for me, Anders. I want to hear you scream." Fenris licked a line up the column of Anders' throat, his voice breathy in his ear.

That was all it took. Anders' felt the coil inside him snap and he came, screaming the elf's name. His come shot out, smearing across both their chests as his cock twitched.

Fenris gritted his teeth, a muscle in his jaw jumping. He gave a few hard, short strokes and shuddered, filling Anders with his seed. He collapsed on the mage, their lips meeting for a slow, languid kiss.

"Say it again," Anders pleaded, his voice hoarse.

"I love you," Fenris whispered into his lips.


	21. Chapter 21

Thanks for reading and the reviews!

A/N:

I think I will just add to this story and change the summery here when the time comes. At Ao3, for those that follow this story there as well, I will start it as a sequel. Thanks for the input, it helps to know what you as a reader like to see and read. But that won't be for a little while yet.

As a bit of a preview, after a few more things get wrapped up for Fenris, the boys will be heading to the Anderfels. I have always wanted to write something speculating on Anders past. For someone who was taken from his family, he has never seemed to express a desire to find out what happened to them.

My posting should go back to normal soon. I'd moved not too long ago, and between organizing the house, getting sick and my laptop exploding, it has slowed me down. Thanks for the patience!

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><p>Anders awoke to kisses peppered along the back of his neck. Fenris was tucked tightly behind him, his right arm thrown across the mage's waist, their legs tangled. They had made love-fucked, whatever label one wanted to put on it—two more times during the night.<p>

Since they had missed the dinner bell, Anders had tiptoed down to the kitchens. The keep housed over a hundred wardens at any given time-hungry wardens. Aedan employed an army of cooks to keep the kitchens going without stop. Nothing was going to get between a hungry warden and his food. It was better than allowing the them to raid the larder, decimating any order.

They had dined on cold meat and cheese before the food had been swept away, their bodies coming together once more. Anders had climaxed that time bent over a chair, his fingers digging into the upholstery and Fenris' voice in his ear, urging him on.

Anders reached back and ran his fingers over the elf's naked hip. The third time Fenris had taken him slowly with Anders braced against the wall. Fenris had been uncharacteristically quiet. He had used his hands to speak for him, sweeping them over the broad expanse of the mage's back and chest with gentle touches. Anders' orgasm, when it came, caught him off guard. The buildup had been so agonizingly slow, that he hadn't seen it coming until he was already crying out, his cock jerking.

Stretching, Anders luxuriated in the twinges of his muscles and rolled over with a sleepy smile on his face. "G'morning," he croaked. His throat felt raw and scratchy.

Fenris moved closer and gave Anders a kiss. "Good morning," he said against his lips. That was the thing about Fenris, the elf was one of those people that could just wake up and be ready for the day. Anders needed time for his brain to catch up with his body. His eyes were wide and aware and he lacked the muzzy-headedness that permeated Anders. It hadn't always been that way. When Justice had been present, Anders had woken well before dawn most days to open the clinic. He'd also slept little and barely ate.

Touching a small bite mark on Anders throat, Fenris' lips twitched in a self satisfied smile. Anders mentally rolled his eyes. The elf had made sure to leave marks were his robes couldn't cover them.

_Not that I'm complaining, mind._

It was strange not to have an audience to his inner monologues. Justice had been a presence that provided commentary and advice—but most often censure. He still wasn't use to it. It made him feel uncertain in his thoughts without someone there. It was better this way. Anders felt freer then he had in a very long time. He had never noticed the heaviness that Justice had added to his soul. Now that the spirit was gone, he felt lighter.

He still hated the templars-that would never change. But his thoughts now his own, Anders didn't see the same need for radical change that Justice had. He felt proud of what he and Justice had accomplished in Kirkwall. They had freed mages imprisoned for doing nothing more than being what they were. There needed to be reform in the circles and in the chantry, and Anders meant to see that happen in his lifetime.

But that didn't have to be spurred on by blowing up the house of the Maker.

Justice had given Anders the tools to see his fellow mages have a better life, and he would use them in the spirit's name. The Ferelden circle was different than when Anders had been there. If Aedan hadn't been blowing smoke, then Anders was going to use him to bend the king's ear. He had a chance to turn the Ferelden circle into something more. If his ideas were successful, maybe, just maybe, it could be used as a model for the other circles in Thedas.

His stomach rumbled.

But more importantly, he was starving. He craned his neck to look out the arrow slit that served as a window. Judging by the light, dawn had broken hours ago. He blew an indigent breath and his tangled hair fluttered around his face.

Fenris cast the same glance at the window. "We're late. I should have been at the practice yard by now."

"Ugh. Don't remind me. I shudder to think what they've done to the infirmary in my absence." Anders put actions to words and shivered. "Real world calls, love." He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Fenris caught his arm and Anders turned his head to peer at the elf over his shoulder.

Anders had noticed when Fenris had started spending his afternoons in the infirmary that he had a piece of strong tied to his wrist. They had never spoken of it, but it had given him hope to see a piece of himself that Fenris kept close by.

"We need to speak. Things are still not clear to me as to what Aedan plans."

Placing his hand over the one on his arm, Anders gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I know. Come to the dining hall after the dinner bell." He held up his hand to forestall any objections. Fenris never ate in the dining hall with the other wardens, preferring to eat on the run, or in his room. The elf was too use to being cut off. The wardens didn't work like that. They wouldn't continue to give him the space that his friends in Kirkwall had afforded him. Eventually, they would come looking for him.

"Just come. It's not just my story to tell." Anders made a face. "Maker knows I wish it _wasn't _my story at all. You have no idea how disgusting a broodmother is. It's one thing to hear about them, quite another to see one and those nipples in all its glory."

Fenris let out small, breathy laugh and released him. "Do you realize you often make little sense?"

"You say that _now_," Anders said as he stood and searched the floor for his clothes. "But I have eyewitnesses that can vouch for me. I'm going to need that if you want to know about the Architect." He plucked his robes off the corner of Fenris' dresser and slipped them on.

"Shit, where are my smalls?" He dropped to his hands and knees and swept an arm under the bed. Something dropped on his head and he reached up to pull his smallclothes from his face.

"They were tangled in the blanket." Fenris slipped from the bed naked and stretched. Anders felt his mouth go dry as he watched all those lean muscles moving under olive skin. Fenris' brands lovingly traced the curves of his body, accentuating them. Anders bit his bottom lip, his eyes glued to the elf. He would never get tired of looking at Fenris naked.

_Who would?_ he asked himself. _I mean _look_ at him._

If Fenris noticed Anders' gaze, he didn't show it as he unselfconsciously walked to his dresser and opened it to pull out clean clothes.

Fenris had cajoled the quartermaster into giving him black clothes instead of the regulation blue and silver. Anders didn't know how he had done it, but so far, the elf had gotten away with not dressing like the others in the keep. When Anders had been at Vigil's Keep before, Cousland hadn't cared about how they had dressed. He still fondly remembered his Tevinter robes, and mourned the need to burn them along with the body that was supposed to have been his.

The way Aedan had been acting lately, Anders foresaw a new set of armor in Fenris' future. Taking away his old armor had been just the start. He just hoped Fenris wouldn't balk and see it as a way for Aedan to control him, and not as the assimilation that Aedan wanted.

Anders hiked up his robes and pulled his smallclothes on. He dropped them and scooped his pants up from the floor. He would have to make a trip to his room in the east wing before he could show his face in the infirmary. He needed to perform his morning ablutions and collect a clean set of clothes.

"I'm going to have a line waiting for me," he grumbled as he laced his boots. "I have to go back to my room first."

"You know," Fenris said mildly, his back to Anders as he slipped on a tunic. "You could always share this room with me. It is closer to the infirmary."

Anders lowered his hands from his boot and stared at Fenris' back while the elf combed his hair. "You want me to move in with you?" He blinked. They had spent every afternoon and evening together for weeks now. Anders practically lived here already. But for Fenris,-as private as he was- to offer to permanently share his space…

He realized he had waited too long to speak when Fenris carefully set his comb back down on the dresser, his movements slow and measured. "If you do not wish it, then forget I offered."

"No!" Anders winced when he shouted and tried again. "No. I do. You just… surprised me." A thought occurred to him. "Can I bring Pounce?"

Fenris sighed and turned, the tension in his shoulders becoming visibly looser. "The feline can come as well." He shook out a pair of leggings and slipped them onto long legs.

"Well then." Anders knew he had a goofy grin on his face, but he couldn't help himself. "I'll bring my things by tonight."

* * *

><p>Fenris focused on the bowl of stew in front of him. He tore a chunk out of the loaf of bread in his hands and dunked it in the bowl. He could feel the eyes of the other wardens at the long table on him, and he resisted the urge to look up.<p>

Howe he knew, the archer giving him a small smile when he and Anders had appeared after the dinner bell. As much as Howe had done for him and Anders, he had seen very little of the man since coming to the keep.

All the tables had been full to bursting as hungry wardens filled the room. The fact that there had been two empty seats at the table that held nothing but Anders' old friends, told the elf that the mage had informed them they were coming.

The only one missing was Isabela. She had said good bye earlier in the day, citing boredom now that Anders and Fenris had 'survived their Rite of Joining,' and 'drank from each other's tainted cups.' She had gone back to her ship and crew, with promises she would say hello to Hawke for them when she made it back to Kirkwall.

He wasn't sure what to expect from such an eclectic group. There were two dwarves, an elf and Howe. Oghren he had a passing acquaintance with, but he had only met Sigrun and Velanna the afternoon before going into the Fade to save Anders.

"So," Howe said slowly to break the staring contest they were having with Fenris' bowed head. "How are you adjusting?"

It was an innocent question, one meant to start inane small talk. It wasn't that Fenris didn't appreciate the sentiment, but they all knew that Fenris hadn't adjusted well. Everyone in the room knew about the elf that had beaten one opponent after another in the yard, and—consequently- almost killed the Warden-Commander's lover.

Fenris raised his eyes, his gaze skipping over the others and stopping at Howe. He sat at one end of the table, while Fenris took the other. Anders was to his right, and Sigrun his left. Oghren sat next to Anders-who was leaning as far back from the noxious dwarf as he could get—and Velanna was across from him.

"Well enough." There, he could make small talk when called upon.

It was—of course—Oghren who ruined it.

"I'll say. There's talk you could hear Sparkle Fingers singing your praises to the Maker last night." He tipped the tankard in his hand back and swallowed, some of the ale spilling out onto his beard to join the remains of his meal.

Fenris raised an eyebrow at the dwarf, a dull flush creeping up his neck. "I know a dwarf, you and he act nothing alike."

"That's because there's only one Oghren." The dwarf belched and Anders leaned further back, pushing his food away in disgust.

"You're friends with a dwarf?" Sigrun asked, her face full of bright curiosity.

"He's in Kirkwall," Anders supplied. "Varric Tethras."

Oghren threw back his head and laughed. "Tethras? They use to be nobles until the father got caught fixing Provings. They fled to the surface like cowards." He took another long drink. "Disgrace to dwarves everywhere."

"You are a fine example of a dwarf, I'm sure," Fenris said dryly.

Pausing in taking yet another drink, Oghren screwed up his face. "There's an insult in there, I can just feel it." The others at the table were captivated, their eyes moving back and forth from Fenris to Oghren.

"Drink some more. I'm sure it will come to you." Fenris bit into his bread and chewed, savoring the yeasty, fluffy taste. Aedan not only made sure his men were well fed, but that they didn't eat slop.

"Now I'm sure of it." Oghren slammed his tankard down on the table, sloshing ale on the scarred wood. "You seem sure of yourself, elf. Maybe I should come sometime to the practice yard and show these young pups how a real Grey Warden fights. We could have a match."

"If you can find it," Fenris murmured around a mouth full of stew. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Sigrun slap a hand over her mouth and giggle.

"A _real_ Grey Warden?" Anders asked despite himself. "As opposed to the fake ones? Who would want to fake being a warden? With all the glory of being in the Deep Roads, the darkspawn and screaming in terror—can't forget that—I can see the appeal, but…" He spread his hands helplessly.

Velanna and Sigrun burst into laughter and even Howe smiled. Oghren just gave them a disgruntled sniff. "All I'm saying is that he's never fought me. There's no challenge in trying to take down wardens who have just passed the Joining." He ignored the fact that Fenris had just survived_ his_ Joining.

"Then by all means," Fenris said. "I'll look forward to it." It came to him that Oghren wasn't trying to be cruel. This was the way the dwarf made friends. As battle worn and crusty as he was, Oghren would never have offered if he genuinely thought Fenris wasn't worth his time.

Fenris didn't make friends easily. He had been sequestered away from the other slaves when he had been with Danarius. In Kirkwall, he had only just arrived when he had met Hawke, and the woman had taken it upon herself to make him feel included.

The only friends he had made on his own had been the Fog Warriors, and he had betrayed their trust in him. He hadn't wanted to get close to another, instead choosing to remain alone, or else chance turning on them if he wasn't strong enough to face Danarius again. The wardens were different. Fenris was different. For Anders, he would try and befriend them, the way he had befriended—in his own way—those that Hawke cared about.

He saw a little bit of himself in Oghren. He didn't delude himself into thinking that the wine he use to consume in his mansion wasn't dangerous. He could have easily broken his neck on the ramshackle stairs, or fallen through the floor in a drunken stupor. He was ashamed about how much alcohol he had drank, as he whiled away the hours waiting for his former master to come for him.

Hawke had known he was sure of it. She made sure to include him as much as possible on her quests, drawing him from his house and giving him little time to drink. He had always been thankful to her for it, even though they had never spoken about it.

It was Anders who pulled him out of his thoughts. "Aedan wants to bring Fenris to the Architect." He spoke quietly so those at nearby tables would not hear him. "He needs to know what he's getting into."

"Or why you object," Nate said shrewdly.

"Where to begin?" Velanna wondered.

"From the beginning," Fenris told her. He glanced at Anders. "And give me the non-Varric version. I need facts, not embellishments."

"So you don't want to hear about how I slayed three broodmothers on my own-blindfolded?" Anders pouted, making him appear childish. "Fine, but the truth is more horrifying and I cry like a little girl through most of it."

"That's different how?" Oghren asked.

* * *

><p>By the time they had finished their story, each taking turns to fill in gaps in each other's memory, the room had cleared out, leaving them alone in the cavernous hall.<p>

Fenris propped his elbows on the table, his fingers steppled below his chin. "He still lives then?"

"More than lives. He's thriving," Howe supplied. "For the past several years, he periodically sends for Aedan to exchange information. Aedan says he does it to make sure the Architect's recent experiments don't set off another blight, but I think there is something more to it."

Velanna cleared her throat. "I would know that one." She leaned forward, whispering even though they were the only ones in the room. "He's hoping the Architect will hit upon a way to negate the Calling. If the darkspawn can resist the lure of an old god, then why can't the wardens resist the Calling?"

Oghren let out a low whistle. "Makes sense. But what happens to us? Do we'll still turn into slavering ghouls?"

Fenris drummed his fingers on the table. He hadn't been happy when he had heard about the Calling. Thirty years had been more than he's had, but Anders had been a warden for longer. There was going to come a time when Fenris was going to have to let the mage go, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"It's all just conjecture at this point," Velanna continued. "But I think Aedan feels some guilt about it. He will gladly send his men to die in the Deep Roads to fight darkspawn, but to ask them to join when they might not survive, only to die in thirty years when they do?"

"If this Architect is knowledgeable enough about arcane and forgotten paths of magic, then he might just know what was done to me." Fenris felt a bubble of hope rise in his chest. He had always feared that Danarius would never reveal the whys of what was done to him. Or that Fenris would be forced to kill him before finding out.

"I think you've missed the part where he's a talking darkspawn, love." The endearment slipped out and Fenris shot him a glare. As big of strides as they had made in their relationship, public displays of affection were pushing it for the private elf.

"I did not miss it. I will take my chances when the time comes."

Anders threw up his hands, conceding defeat. "Aedan better take me with you. I'm not letting you go alone."

"Well isn't that cute," Oghren said in a sickly sweet voice. "I think I just might puke."

"It's all the ale you've drank," Anders pointed out.

"That too," Oghren agreed.


	22. Chapter 22

A large thanks to everyone that is enjoying reading this story and those that also review!

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><p>It was almost nightfall by the time the wagon stopped at the keep. The draft horses snorted, tossing their large heads. The driver jumped down and rubbed his hands over their necks as he waited for the guards to open the gates.<p>

Devlin was a small time brewer made big by serving one customer only. His family brewed ale for the wardens of Vigil's Keep and had for a number of years now. Once a week he made the trip personally to deliver the massive kegs. When his sons were older he would bring them with him and introduce them to the Warden-Commander himself. He took his job seriously. He never spoke about the Grey Wardens to outsiders, preferring instead to remain silent about the group that had brought his family so much prosperity.

He rubbed at his bad knee. It ached when he sat for too long in the same spot. The ride from the City of Amaranthine to the keep was a long one when you drove a laden down wagon. The journey took twice as long as it should, and every bump in the road after the first few hours sent a jolt through his leg. He'd heard there was a new healer in the keep. Maybe the Warden-Commander would do an old friend a favor and let him look at Devlin's knee. His sons were young yet to be taking over the delivery and his apprentices too green. He had many slow, jolting rides to look forward to yet.

The wind picked up and Devlin wrapped his cloak tighter around himself as he shivered. He sent a covert glance towards his wagon. He shouldn't have picked up the passenger, his conscience chided. It wasn't as if he needed the gold he'd been paid. But he'd been so persuasive, that before Devlin knew it, he had hopped up onto the back of the wagon and made himself at home amidst the lashed down barrels. Well, Devlin wasn't going to hide the fact that he was there. If he was looking to sneak into the keep, he had another thing coming.

The gates groaned and shuddered as they began to rise. A warden on the parapet above him yelled down a greeting at Devlin and he waved back. Devlin scratched at his balding crown, disturbing wispy blonde hairs so they fluffed around his head like a chick's feathers. He patted the dagger on his hip, feeling its reassuring weight. Devlin may have been getting on in years, but no one was going to catch him off guard, not even a smooth talking passenger.

He walked to the gate when it had reached high enough for him to step through it safely, and nodded at the warden that came to meet him. "Conner," Devlin said, clasping the man's forearm in his own. He and Conner had known each other for years. Conner was always there to greet Devlin and make small talk, while they wait for the younger recruits to come and lead the wagon to the back of the kitchens. As old as Devlin was, Conner's dark hair had fared better over the year, even if it boasted more grey.

"I ought to tell ya, Conner. I picked up a passenger that wanted a ride to the keep. Says he has a message for one of yours." Devlin shoved his thumb over his shoulder to point at the wagon.

Conner frowned. "Did ya now?" He stroked his chin with his fingers. "Let's see who you've got." His walk was casual, but he placed a hand on the sword at his side. They rounded the wagon together to find the passenger had already disembarked.

"Finally. Not that I'm complaining mind, but that was quite a ride." The beardless dwarf straightened his tunic, brushing off the dust from the road. "Better than walking, that's for sure."

Conner shot Devlin a look as they approached. He didn't know what to make of him anymore than Devlin had. "If I may, please state your name and business," the warden asked. His tone wasn't threatening, but it wasn't welcoming either.

"Varric Tethras." The dwarf gave a small bow. "I've come to visit some friends."

* * *

><p>"What could he want from us?" Anders asked for the third time as he and Fenris walked to Aedan's office. They had been summoned from the dining hall before either could finish their meals. Anders had a horrible feeling he knew what Aedan wanted from them.<p>

They were going to see the Architect.

Fenris was thinking the same thing, if his hurried strides were any indication. Three days had passed since Fenris had decided that the Architect was his best bet-outside of Danarius-to find out what had happened to him and why. The elf constantly spoke of it, asking Anders incessant questions about the darkspawn and his knowledge. Questions Anders couldn't answer. His dealings with the Architect had been—thankfully—short lived.

He also seemed just as interested in what Velanna had said about maybe finding a way to resist the Calling. Anders didn't think there was any validity to it. They were going to turn into ghouls, Calling or no. At least the Calling provided a warning bell before you started to slobber and attack your friends.

They stopped at Aedan's door and Fenris raised his hand to knock. He paused when he heard muffled laughter. His eyebrows drew down sharply as he rapped on the heavy wood. The laughter cut off and there was a murmured command to enter. Pushing open the door, Fenris and Anders saw the last thing they had been expecting.

Varric sat on a chair in front of Aedan's perpetually cluttered desk. He had a tankard which he raised in greeting when they entered. "Broody, Blondie, there you are!" Zevran sat next to the dwarf, a laugh on his lips when he saw the astonishment on their faces.

Fenris put his hand over his eyes. "If I count to ten very slowly, will he still be there?"

"Oh, Broody," Varric admonished. "You should know you can't get rid of me that easily."

Anders' lips spread in a slow grin. "What are you doing here?" His face fell. "Did something happen to Hawke? What did that asshole do to her? I knew I shouldn't have left, damn it." Zevran vacated his chair and gestured for Anders to sit.

"If something had happened to your friend, I don't think we would be sitting here listening to this delightful dwarf tell tales, no?" He went to the edge of the room and returned with a chair for Fenris, placing it on the other side of Varric.

"Varric was just telling us some _delightful _stories about you in Kirkwall, Anders." Aedan leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head, linking his fingers together. He looked too pleased with himself for Anders comfort.

"First rule of Varric," Anders said as he sat down. "Believe the opposite of whatever comes out of his mouth. Unless it makes me look good, then he's the Paragon of Truthfulness, returned to walk among us mortals."

"There is no Paragon of Truthfulness," Varric pointed out. He took a sip from his tankard, relishing the taste of well made ale. He more than understood why Aedan monopolized Devlin. Already his wheels were turning as he calculated how he could get Devlin to take on a distributer in Kirkwall.

"How would you know?" Fenris sat down, surrendering to the inevitable.

"You're right," the dwarf admitted wryly. "No one in Orzammar would make someone one. Who would revere the poor sod? Not the merchant's guild."

A bark of laughter erupted from Aedan. "You're already earning your title. No truer words have been spoken."

Fenris rubbed at his eyes. He could feel the headache forming behind them. "Why are you here, dwarf?" Varric wouldn't have left the comfort of the Hanged Man, let alone Kirkwall unless it was dire. If it wasn't Hawke, then something else was going on. "Get to the point."

"Well now." Varric sobered and settled back in his chair. "Hawke sent me. We thought it was best if I came in person, than risk sending a letter." He reached into his tunic and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. He shrewdly tossed it to Anders.

"Read it out loud. I want to see what you can make of it before telling my story."

Fenris let out a short, thankful breath. He hadn't been able to continue his reading lessons with Hawke, and Anders still did not know that an eight year old had better literacy than he did. It wasn't that he was hiding it from the mage, he just hadn't given it much thought.

"Dog has not taken bone, may not be starving as we thought. Will await further instructions." Anders held the note up. "What is this?"

His eyes widening, Fenris shot to his feet and snatched the note from Anders' fingers. "This in Arcanum." Even though he couldn't read it, his eyes hungrily ate up the familiar scrolling letters.

"Let me see that." Anders tried to pull it from the elf's hands before giving up and reading it over Fenris' shoulder. "So it is. Sorry. Most of the books in the circle are in Arcanum. You get into the habit of translating when you read out loud."

Fenris canted his face towards Anders, his eyes narrowing into slits. "You can understand Arcanum?" Everything he had ever said about the mage-or even _to _him-flashed in his mind.

"Um, yeah." Anders coughed in his hand. "Haven't I mentioned that before?" Anders knew damn well he had never mentioned it. He had liked the idea of being privy—although secretly—to the things Fenris said. To be honest, _most_ of those things hadn't been flattering to Anders, but he had taken what he could get.

"That," Varric pointed at the note, "was retrieved off the body of a man with no identification and no apparent business in Kirkwall. I couldn't find a single soul who knew him or where he had come from. Just one day poof," he snapped open his hand, "shows up."

"And how did this man end up in his current state?" Zevran was idly leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed.

"Bianca didn't like his tone when I tried to introduce myself." Fondly patting the crossbow on his back, Varric shrugged. "Wasn't her fault. She doesn't like it when people try to stick pointy objects in my belly."

Fenris passed the note to Aedan when the man streatched out his hand for it. "What was he doing that aroused your suspicions?" Fenris started to pace when he heard Varric's answer, moving from one end of the room to the other.

"He was following a package that Hawke was supposed to pass on to you."

"She came?" The elf stopped in mid-stride and spun around to face Varric. "She actually came?" he couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"She?" Aedan asked.

"My sister or I think she is. She could just be an elaborate trap. Maybe she's a well coached slave sent to lower my guard. But it's too obvious. Maybe Danarius is counting on that. If it's too obvious it might be true she's my sister. Or maybe he underestimates me."

His fingers went flying, tapping against the pad of his thumb as his thoughts ran rapid fire. There were too many variables where Danarius was concerned. He knew the key to surviving the man was to anticipate what he would do, and counter it before he could act. More than one of Danarius' enemies had fallen when they hadn't seen the viper they let through their door.

"If she is my sister, then she is in danger just by coming. Danarius must have found out and is hoping she will draw me out in the open. But why now? He has known where I was for years. If he wanted me, he could have come and tried to take me."

"Fenris—" Anders began.

The elf was panting now, his words tumbling out as his thoughts ran together. "If it is her, we have to keep her safe. Danarius won't give up and could use her against me, picking the time and place."

"Fenris—"

"I'll have to kill him. Even if I can't get my answers, there is no other way."

"Fenris!" Anders stepped in front of the elf and Fenris collided with him. Anders steadied him, placing his hands on his shoulders and breaking the elf out of his chaotic musings.

"Sit down. Let's hear what Varric has to say first." He led Fenris to his chair and waited until he sat back down before taking his own seat.

"So," Varric resumed, as if Fenris hadn't just given them all a verbal show to his inner turmoil. "I took the same ship that she did-without her knowledge. She's already in the city. I've paid the stable boys to watch for her. They will report back to me on when she leaves, and who comes to visit her." He nodded at the note on Aedan's desk. "Regardless of who she is, she is being used as bait."

Fenris rested his lips on the knuckles of his clasped hands. "I shouldn't go until she sends word. It will look suspicious if I arrive too soon."

"Or it will give them no time to prepare," Zevran ventured. "I will go tonight and see what I can find. I have contacts in the city." Anders just bet he did. The city was the closest port and the easiest place for those plotting against Aedan to congregate.

"Do it," Aedan ordered. "We'll reconvene here after the lunch bell. I don't like the idea of a magister trying to set up one of my wardens. If he thinks to snatch you back, he's in for a nasty surprise." The hardened look in his eyes reminded Fenris that this man had faced an Archdemon and lived.

Fenris believed it.


	23. Chapter 23

Thanks to everyone for your wonderful reviews and alert notices I get!

A/N:

I waited until this whole section of the story was done before I posted. I felt this chapter left too much of a cliffhanger, and wanted to post the followup at the same time.

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><p>There were three things that Zevran loved more than life itself: Aedan, having Aedan fuck him, and the thrill of the hunt. They were in no particular order, their priorities changing frequently and arbitrarily. Zevran could lie and say it was the Crows that had taught him the skills for the last two, but he would like to think that it was just in him before he had been sold. Maybe it was a spark of his potential that the Crows had seen, a small ember of his personality that matched the requirements for a good assassin.<p>

One thing he did not like was surprises.

Well, that wasn't completely true. His jaded soul craved the interesting and the new. It invigorated him, just when he thought Thedas had nothing left to offer. What he didn't like, was to be caught off guard in the middle of a mission. Especially in a city he had come to see over the years as his territory.

Stripped of his clothes, he lay on a dirt packed floor. His arms were bound to his waist with rope, and his hands tied behind his back to his feet. He wiggled his fingers to keep circulation going in them, and to get the others in the room use to his slight movements. Blood dried on his face, and he could feel a shallow gash oozing on his right side.

It had been going so well. How hard was it to ride to Amaranthine, go to an inn that he was well acquainted with and make some inquiries? Obviously it was too hard. Maybe he was growing complacent in his old age.

More likely he had forgotten just how devious magisters could really be.

He hadn't noticed the paralysis glyph until he was already caught, his muscles locking up as a flash went off. Thinking back, he should have known better. Magisters didn't rise high in the circles of Tevinter unless they were crafty. He had taken one step-one single step-into the elven woman's room and that was all it took.

His injuries were from the tender care of the slavers before they carted him out the back door of the inn, rolled up in a rug. They had disarmed him and lashed his limbs together like a pig for the slaughter before he was able to react. The heavy rug had stifled his breathing and hidden him from the view of inn's more nocturnal patrons. He had spent the journey to a dank cellar counting silently to gauge the passage of time. Approximately thirty minutes had passed before he was unceremoniously dumped on the ground and unrolled from the rug. Thirty minutes in a radius from the inn could only be one of three areas. The docks he could rule out, he had not heard the sounds of water.

He lay on his injured side and dirt ground into it, causing blades of agony to radiate from the wound. Black robes with blood red trim swirled in his field of vision and Zevran rolled his eyes up. Fenris hadn't been exaggerating, when he had said that the Danarius in the Fade looked nothing like the man in person. From the black beard and hair going grey, to the curious fact that he was half elven, Danarius couldn't look less different from the phantom of the Fade.

"Zevran Arainai," Danarius drew out his name, his lips curling in a smirk. "Not the elf I was looking for, but you'll do. What brings the Hero of Ferelden's whore to an elven woman's room in the early hours of the morning?"

Strong hands lifted him and sat him upright. Zevran rubbed his dirt smeared cheek against his shoulder, stalling for time before he answered. "I haven't slept with you have I?" Zevran screwed his face up as if searching his memory. "No. No, I would have remembered someone like you."

Danarius nodded to one of the slavers and Zevran's head cracked to the side, his jaw throbbing from the blow. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth and he spat at Danarius' feet to get rid of it.

Crouching down in front of Zevran, Danarius grabbed a handful of tangled blonde hair and yanked back, forcing the elf to look at him. "I know who you are. I have acquaintances in Minrathous that have used your services in the past. "

He held out his hand and a knife was slapped hilt first into his palm. Danarius traced the tattoos on Zevran's cheek with the tip of his blade. The point was razor sharp and sliced through the first layer of skin. "Your look is distinct. There was talk of trying to capture you for our own amusement once."

Zevran smiled with bloodstained teeth. "Alas, the Crows would have not liked that. Bad for business to let the clients keep the assassin." He should know. It took him years to get the Crows off his back. He stared at Danarius in his cold eyes. They might as well have been in a tea parlor in Orlais, exchanging gossip about the latest fashions for all the fear he showed.

"But you are not a Crow anymore, are you? You are the property of the Grey Wardens." Danarius tapped the tattoo on Zevran's left hip. Etched in his skin with black ink many years ago, twin griffons reared back in scrolling lines, their back claws outstretched to attack and their wings unfurled, the tips of the feathers wrapped around to caress his hipbone and ass. He'd had to pay good money for someone to do it. No one wanted to use the symbol of the wardens on someone who was so decidedly not one of the Grey.

The look of surprise—then possessive lust-on Aedan's face had been worth every coin.

"There used to be a whore in Denerim who had a griffon tattoo. She was less the property of the wardens and more for lease. What makes you think I'm any different?" The knife moved, sliding over the juncture between his hip and groin. The tip rested dangerously against his balls and Zevran fought to keep his breathing even and slow and his face impassive.

"Because a dwarf from Kirkwall was seen on a brewer's wagon heading towards Vigil's Keep. This same dwarf killed a man of mine. Several hours later, you show up from the keep to break into the room of an elven woman from Tevinter. A woman that I have been following for some time."

Danarius leaned in close enough that Zevran could feel his hot breath on his face. "So tell me, Zevran Arainai, formally of the Antivan Crows, tell me what I would like to know, or we will find out if your Hero will still want you with your balls cut off and hung around your neck."

"You lack imagination if you think my balls are the only thing Aedan likes about me. You are missing my charm and ass. Both of these things you cannot cut off easily." The grip on his hair tightened and Zevran could feel some of his hair pulling sharply from his scalp.

"And _you_ lack imagination if you think either of those things cannot be accomplished easily, especially by a magister of the Imperium." Danarius let go of him and straightened. He held up his hand, palm out, and brought the knife edge to it, slicing into the soft flesh with a quick jerk. Blood welled and power collected in the room, crackling around them.

"Your charm is the least of what I will take. You will give me the answers I seek, and so much more."

* * *

><p>Aedan couldn't sit still. Anders watched the man pace his office and sighed, his fingers curled in Pounce's fur. Some people just didn't know when they needed a cat to pet. With all the pacing that Fenris and Aedan did, it was no wonder they were agitated all the time. Give him a comfy seat and a rumbling, sleepy kitty any day. The tension just seeped out. Cats were the finest creatures the Maker created, and Anders would challenge anyone to find something better. Fenris was just as bad, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. He was unconsciously following the rhythm of Pounce's purr and Anders smiled down at the cat.<p>

_See? He knows what he needs, even if he won't admit it_, he said silently to the cat. Pounce blinked up at him as if to say, 'Some people don't understand the wonders of cats.'

Varric sat near Anders, his eyes following the pacing of the human. He raised an eyebrow at Anders and the mage shrugged.

"Something has gone wrong," Aedan said for what was the twelfth time. Anders knew because he had been keeping tally. "He's never late."

"We should not wait any longer. It is almost time for the dinner bell," Fenris said for what was the sixth time. "This does not bode well."

Anders said nothing. Any reassurances he had given had been rebuffed-so he had quit trying. Aedan and Fenris could brood and worry. _Anders_ would stick with Pounce.

It wasn't as if he wasn't concerned—Zevran _had _been gone for too long—but Aedan wasn't an unbiased party, and Anders didn't want to go off half-cocked to Aramanthine until the man had calmed down.

A raging Aedan wasn't what they needed. Not when lacked information.

The door creaked open and Fenris rose from his seat as Aedan stopped in his tracks. Their faces fell when they saw it was a recruit instead of the blonde elf they had been expecting.

"Ser, Arainai has returned and is in the courtyard. He requests your presence." The man saluted and Anders stifled a smile. All this, 'Yes, ser' and 'No, ser' of Aedan's new Ferelden Grey Wardens seemed a little much at times. Things had indeed changed since he was last here.

"Finally!" Aedan rushed pass the man, with Fenris on his heels. Anders stood up and gently placed Pounce in his warmed seat, following at a more sedate pace with Varric.

The dinner bell rang as they made their way outside, and they had to fight the flow of traffic to the dining hall when the courtyard emptied. Aedan took the stairs out of the keep two at a time, moving swiftly for such a large man. Zevran stood alone in the middle of the courtyard, his arms lax at his sides, his head bowed.

"There you are," Aedan said as he approached the elf. "I was getting worried. Did everything go all right?"

Fenris was the first one to see it and he opened his mouth to give a warning shout. A blade appeared in Zevran's hands, the dying light of the sun glinting off the deadly weapon as it came arcing down, biting deep into Aedan's shoulder. Aedan stared at his lover, his eyes wide with shock and pain. Empty, dead eyes stared back as Zevran ripped the blade free, blood flinging onto Aedan's face.

"My master wants me to give you a message," he said, his voice as toneless and devoid of emotion as his eyes. Aedan staggered back, his hand clutching the wound. He narrowly missed the next strike as Fenris knocked him off balance and took him to the ground.

"You claim what is mine, I claim what is yours." Zevran raised his dagger again and took a step forward. "Give me my property, and you can have yours."

A sheet of ice froze him in mid-step, crackling out from his chest to encase his whole body. Fenris turned his head from where he was covering Aedan, to see Anders' hand outstretched and his staff in a tight grip over his head. Varric had Bianca off his back and primed, the loaded bolt aimed for Zevran's legs.

"Don't know how long this will last," Anders said as he shot another stream of ice at Zevran. "Get Aedan out of here. Go get Velanna. She should be in the dining hall." A sheet of ice cracked and fell to the ground, shattering on impact. Anders cast again, patching the hole.

"Hurry!"

"No!" Aedan pushed Fenris off of him and struggled to his feet. "I'm not leaving him. What the hell is wrong with him?"

"Blood magic. It seems my former master has finally found me." Fenris pulled at Aedan's arm. "We must go. Anders will not be able to hold him for long."

Aedan shook his head rapidly. "No. No… Zev would never—"

"That is not him," Fenris snapped. "If you want to help him, then come with me, now!"

Blood seeped between Aedan's fingers and he took three steps backwards, his eyes on the frozen form of his lover. Aedan's face abruptly cleared, losing the look of shock and panic. His eyes hardened, and a muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth.

"I'm going to rip that bastard apart," he snarled. He turned, and he and Fenris ran back to the keep.

* * *

><p>Velanna and Anders had managed to bind Zevran with spells, immobilizing him and giving Nate, Fenris and Aedan time to carry the assassin down to the dungeon. The three dwarves, Oghren, Varric and Sigrun followed, their weapons ready in case Zevran was able to break free. They needn't have worried. The elf had gone limp, his dead eyes staring blankly ahead when he had been lifted. It was almost as if once the message had been delivered, all the fight had gone out of him.<p>

Anders shuddered to look at the elf that lay passively on the floor of his cell. He reminded Anders of the Tranquil and their emotionless faces. Aedan gripped the bars of the cell door, his knuckles white as he rested his forehead against the cool metal.

"Talk to me, Velanna." It was more a command than a request. "What's happening?"

"Blood magic. I can taste it in the air around him." Her face screwed up in distaste. "There are only three ways to break the magister's hold on him: have the one who cast the spell revoke it, kill the one who cast it, or…" She faltered, but Aedan finished for her.

"Or we kill him." Aedan turned his head and sent a steely glance over his shoulder. "That's not an option."

"We're not saying it is Aedan," Nate assured him. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the dank, stone wall. Tilting his head to the side, his hair falling over one shoulder, Nate's face took on a determined cast. "We'll get the one that did this, but without you."

Anders' gaze flicked back and forth between Nate and Aedan. He took an involuntary step back and noticed he hadn't been the only one to do so. Nathaniel was the second in command of Vigil's Keep. When Aedan left, Nate was in charge. It allowed him a certain freedom to question Aedan that no one else in the keep had-at least not any longer.

"Excuse me?" Aedan said slowly. He swiveled his head to glance over his other shoulder with narrowed eyes.

"You heard me. You're injured and you're angry. The situation is also too dangerous to allow you to walk into it." Anders had to give Nate points for not flinching. That glare wasn't even directed at him, but Anders found himself quaking in his boots.

Aedan pushed himself away from the bars and strode over to Nate. He flung a hand behind him and pointed at Zevran. "But it was alright to allow him to go into it? Or let any of _you_? He did this to Zev, Nate-to fucking _Zev_. I'm the Warden-Commander here, _not _you."

He got into Nate's space and he rolled his eyes up towards Aedan's without giving ground. "And I'm your second. How do you think it's going to look if you go charging into the city for an elf that isn't even a warden? You gave me this job, Aedan, let me do it."

"Don't give me that," Aedan snorted in derision. "Zev is a warden in all but name only. He's done as much for the wardens-if not more-than half the people in this keep. Don't think I don't know what he's doing on his little trips into the city."

He turned his head when he heard Velanna suck in her breath. "I'm not blind. I pretend I don't know about the people he's killed, or the ones who end up in sudden disgrace. I cannot be seen to sanction it so I never mention it." He turned back to Nate. "But I'm mentioning it now."

"I'm not saying we won't help him," Nate sighed. "I'm saying that you should not be a part of this. You aren't the young warden dashing off to right wrongs anymore, Aedan. If he could do this to Zevran, he could do it to anyone." The two men stared at each other, neither one blinking in their battle of wills.

Aedan was the first to cave. "If I promise to let Anders heal me first?"

"And if you actually come up with a plan." Nate's lips quirked. "You can't storm the city with a contingent of wardens."

Aedan laughed softly and turned back to the cell, his eyes running over the still form of his lover. "Agreed. You take all the fun out of this, Nate."

"Someone has to reign you in," Nate replied. "You gave that job to me."


	24. Chapter 24

Thanks to those that review, put this story on their alerts, or are just enjoying the story!

* * *

><p>"No offense, Aedan," Anders began.<p>

"I'm going to love this aren't I?" Aedan was crouched behind a stack of crates, peering over them to look at the building across the street. Night had fallen, and the chill of the evening had settled on them both. Not that it bothered Aedan. The man was in full plate, while Anders was wearing his-albeit new—robes.

"I hate this plan," the mage finished. In similar alleys, they had broken off into pairs to wait out Fenris. Each pair had a different side of the building to cover. They had spent the day sending wardens in plain clothes to the various establishments around the inn. If the owners had listened well, no one would be occupying the surrounding area. They didn't know if Danarius was in the Three Corners Inn, but they weren't going to take any chances, especially after sending Fenris in alone.

"Duly noted," Aedan rolled his eyes, "for the tenth time." Aedan had spent his day arguing. First it had been Nate in the dungeon. Then it had been Anders once he heard what Aedan planned. Finally it had been Fenris, the elf balking when Aedan told him and Anders that they would be paying a visit to the quartermaster before they left.

Aedan was going to leave no doubt as to whose man Fenris was now. Anders had grumbled at losing his beloved coat—where did he get that tatty thing?—but he had done as he was told. Fenris had decided it was a perfect time to test Aedan's patience. The answer was simple—he had little to none.

If Aedan was being honest, it had felt good. Yelling at Fenris and having the elf give as good as he got, had released some of the tension that he had been feeling since Zevran had attacked him. Nate use to do that for him, but the man didn't rise to the bait anymore. Zevran just found more pleasurable ways of venting Aedan's ire.

During the ride to the city, Fenris had twitched in his new armor, pulling pieces of it this way and that in order to get comfortable. It was heavier than Fenris was use to, chain mail and steel covered him in strategic places. Both he and Anders wore the blue and silver tabard of the wardens.

Aedan had relented on a few things. He hadn't wanted to hamper Fenris' movements anymore than was necessary. A chain mail hauberk hung to mid-thigh, stopping just short where his chausses started above his knees. He'd had the blacksmith take off enough links to remove the feet, insisting on them being bare. Steel covered his upper arms, shoulders and chest, the twin griffons of the wardens emblazoned on the last. Fenris also had demanded to be able to wear his black leggings and tunic underneath the armor. Aedan thought himself lucky to get as far as he had, so he had relented in that as well. He also still wore his clawed gauntlets, so his look did seem a little piecemeal. There was nothing to be done about it. Aedan would have to commission something completely new for Fenris and his needs. Until then, this would have to do.

Aedan didn't take his eyes off of the inn as he whispered to Anders. "He didn't come out immediately. I'm going to take that to mean he has either found the girl, Danarius, or both. "

"Because that is _so_ reassuring. Hey, Anders," the mage mimicked, "it's a good sign. It means that the big, scary magister has taken the bait. Don't you feel all warm and fuzzy? Let's frolic in the streets and rejoice!"

He snapped his mouth shut when Aedan shot him a glare over his shoulder. "You know, I use to think your sense of humor was a little cute. I was so young and naive then."

"Hey!" Anders looked offended. "You're younger than I am."

"Really?" Aedan mused. "Doesn't seem that way sometimes." He turned back to the inn. One of the hitches in his plan was that they couldn't risk warning anyone in the inn the way they had the businesses around it. There was no telling who was working for Danarius, or who was ensorcelled. Not until the barkeep shoved a blade in your back. It was risky, but the hope was they could draw Danarius outside without risking civilian casualties.

The shadows that the full moon cast on the empty streets had lengthened since Fenris had entered the inn. Without any inhabitants in the buildings around them—even this late at night—it seemed too quiet. Aedan's brow furrowed as something niggled in the back of his mind.

"Does it seem quiet to you?" he asked carefully.

"I guess so. But it's late, everyone but us—not that I'm casting judgment—is long asleep." Anders punctuated his point by yawning.

"That's just it." Realization dawned and he shot to his feet. "Everyone should be asleep. Everyone except the drunkards, and the whores." He nodded to the inn and the lights that blazed inside through the dingy windows. "For so much light, there is no sound coming from the common room."

He took a few steps out into the street while ignoring Anders frantic whispers to come back. He spun on his heel, turning to look at the buildings around him. "This area of town… The inn is cheap, out of the way, but near enough to the docks. It's a prime spot for sailors to drink and whores to ply their trade. So why isn't…"

He stopped and faced Anders. "Plan A has failed. We need to go-now." He took off at a run for the inn, drawing his sword and shield, and calling out for the others with a prearranged signal that consisted of nothing more than Aedan bellowing for them.

Anders pulled his staff from his back and went after him. Aedan knew as well as he did that Plan B entailed running inside and slaughtering anything slaver, demonic or magister.

Warden-Commander Cousland liked to keep his plans simple.

* * *

><p>The very moment that Fenris laid his eyes on her, he knew that she was his sister. Images flashed in his head and he clutched at his temples from the onslaught.<p>

_A red haired girl in pigtails running away from him, and squealing in joy when he tried to catch her. _

_Their mother with the scent of flour wafting from her clothes, smiling down at them as she handed them slices of fresh baked bread._

_The fear in her eyes when master came down to the kitchens, his gaze predatory._

He couldn't seem to get enough air to breath. He stared at Varania as he went pale, the blood leaving his face.

"I remember you. I…" He grasped for words while she stood. They were alone in the common room, and her footsteps seemed louder in the unearthly quiet.

Fenris had remembered nothing this whole time. Tears pricked the backs of his eyes. His fevered dreams when in the throes of the Taint couldn't be relied upon. But now he saw that there had been some ring of truth to them.

She stopped in front of him and gave him a small smile. Eyes that he saw each time he looked in a mirror glanced back at him. They stared at each other, each unsure of what to say to the other.

"You… you remember me, Leto? I wasn't sure. You always looked right through me when we saw each other. I thought you would never remember." Her voice tugged at him, drawing forth more memories.

_Varania clutching him tightly, her body trembling, sobs wracking her body. "Don't do it, Leto. It's not worth it." But he knew she didn't mean it. Their mother was getting on in years and his sister hated their lot in life. He would do this for them. He might be the lowest of the bodyguards, but he was tenacious when he fought. He could do this._

"I asked for this." He turned startled eyes on her. Not once, not _once_ in all these years did it ever occur to him that he had asked to be turned into this…weapon. The urge to serve Danarius hadn't been instilled in him from the ritual that had branded him for life. It had been in him before. He had fought for the privilege, gloried in being first and buying his sister's and his mother's freedom. "I had always thought—"

"What we wanted you to think." A voice that haunted Fenris' nightmares called down from the stairs. It was as if the world had stopped. Varania sucking in a breath and the look of apology in her eyes. The understanding that she had willing brought him here. The creak of the stairs as Danarius walked down them, his robes flowing around his feet. The scent of blood and death wafting from the second floor, unnoticed until this moment. The light from the great fireplace in the center of the room casting shadows on Danarius' face, making him appear the demon of his dreams. It all took a single heartbeat's time. But as he turned his head towards the object of all his hate, it seemed to last a lifetime.

"My little wolf, I've finally found you."

* * *

><p>They had barely reached the door before the first demon appeared. A rage demon erupted from the earth and Aedan wasted no time rushing it. Flames splattered across his shield as the demon pounded a fiery fist into the metal.<p>

There had been times in the past that Anders had thought that Aedan might be a berserker.

This was one of them.

The man yelled an inarticulate battle cry and dropped his shield arm, swinging his sword around to slice at the demon's midsection. A bolt and an arrow simultaneously struck the demon, imbedding inches apart from each other in its head.

Glass rained down on them as the windows on the first floor of the inn exploded outwards. The sound of a thunderclap boomed through the streets. Ohgren raced in from the side, his axe arcing wide, a manic light in his eyes.

"Let me show ya how it's done!" One of the demon's arms flew off, its fire going out and disintegrating into ash. Oghren's beard became scorched, tiny embers attempting the climb in the matted hair.

The demon bellowed in rage and threw its only remaining fist at Aedan. It glanced off of his armor, but staggered the man back. Aedan whirled his sword over his head, the steeling singing in the air, and a determined grin on his face.

_He's enjoying this too much_, Anders thought. He sent a healing wave over to Oghren. The demon had caught him in the face, sending the dwarf flying down the street. In his periphery he saw Sigrun making her way silently towards the demon, skirting around it to get to its back. He could also hear Velanna casting behind him, and feel her pull from the Fade.

But it wasn't necessary.

With a triumphant cry, Aedan hacked the thing's head off. It went spinning into the air, a whirling ball of fire before it went out, and its ashes blew away in the wind.

Aedan didn't bother with trying the door. With a plate clad foot, he kicked at the wood. The frame cracked and the door flew back, crashing into the Three Corners.

The smell of blood was thick as they rushed inside. It permeated the air, tainting it with its metallic tang. Fenris stood in the center of the room. He held an elven woman up by her throat, his face snarling into hers.

"You betrayed me."

* * *

><p>"<em>I'm going to become a magister. You have no idea what it's like. I couldn't get work once I was free. He'll make me powerful." <em>Varania's words rang in his ears and wrapped themselves around the place where his heart should be. Dimly he knew this was exactly what Danarius wanted, but he couldn't stop himself, his hands moving for her throat of their own volition. He heard a crash behind him, but that was happening in another place, another time. This woman-this magister's apprentice—that would think to betray him, was the only thing that mattered right now. The claws from his gauntlets cut into the tender skin of her neck, rivulets of blood running down her throat.

"Leto," she gasped, her hands clawing against his wrists for purchase. "I'm your… sister… please…"

"I have no sister." His lips peeled back from his teeth in a grimace. "I only see an apprentice that would emulate her masters when it comes to those she professes to care about. A magister's pet that tried to kill me with lightening. A bitch panting after any scraps they give her."

He ignored the calls of his name and shrugged off the hands pulling at his shoulders and arms. He had thought that once Hadriana was dead, there would be only one person he wanted to kill as much.

He had been wrong.

Blood vessels broke just under the surface of her face, leaving tiny red lines on her cheeks. "Leto," she begged as her mouth gaping. He didn't want to use his lyrium brands to take her heart. He wanted to see her face as her brain struggled for blood. He wanted her to fully know the mistake she had made.

"Shit," Anders swore, "I can't get him to listen to me. I don't think he knows we're here." He pulled fruitlessly at the elf's arms. The muscles were corded tightly just underneath his skin. Anders tried shouting at him, calling his name, screaming in his ear. Fenris wouldn't acknowledge him.

The elven woman he was strangling certainly saw them. She stared wide eyed at them, pleading silently with bloodshot eyes to help her. Anders ducked under Fenris' arm and stood between him and the woman. He clasped the elf's face in his hands, and rubbed his thumbs along his cheeks.

"Fenris, love. You have to stop." Anders' eyes searched Fenris' eyes for any sign that he could hear him. "Baby, please." Fenris hated it when Anders called him that. He wasn't an infant and didn't see the need for it as an endearment. Anders did it just to rattle the elf.

Applause broke out from a single set of hands, slow and mocking. "I see you're the mage my wolf latched on to." The whole room, except for Fenris and the elven woman turned towards the stairs. The man that stood there had not been there when they had entered.

"Although I don't blame you. The lad is quite…skilled." That last word had such undertones of innuendo, that Anders felt sick.

Aedan leaned in to whisper in Anders' ear. "Take care of Fenris. Let me deal with this." He didn't wait for an acknowledgement before striding out towards the bottom of the stairs.

"Fenris. You need to let her go. You're killing her." He didn't know why Fenris was choking the life out of her, but he had to stop. They needed her for answers, if nothing else. And if she turned out to truly be his sister…

Anders couldn't let him do that. Fenris would hate himself for it later.

In a last desperate bid, he sent a charge of magic through the lines of lyrium. Fenris jerked, and a low moan escaped his lips. His eyes began to clear and he blinked, his eyebrows drawing down in confusion.

"Anders?"

"Yes, love. Now let the poor woman go. I think she's passed out." He heard a thud behind him and winced in sympathy as the woman's dead weight hit the grimy wooden floor.

Fenris stared at his hands, his fingers twitching as if he could still feel the woman's fluttering pulse slowly ebbing against his fingers. He had felt this before, this feeling of rage and helplessness. The last time he had slaughtered a whole village of Fog Warriors. His eyes jerked towards the stairs, his brain swimming with realization.

Of course Danarius had found him among the Fog Warriors. Of course his sister had betrayed him. The slow burn of anger returned, churning in his gut. It all had felt so inevitable, his freedom and dreams only an illusion. But Anders was real. Anders was something that Danarius couldn't twist, jerking Fenris' string slike a puppet, breaking him down until he would do whatever the magister wanted.

He was already destroying himself. Why should Danarius take the time to do it, when Fenris did so well on his own? All Danarius had to do was set up the circumstances-Fenris did the rest, tearing out pieces of his soul and handing it to the magister. All with the man barely lifting a finger.

Danarius didn't need to break Fenris with torture or threats. He had only to lead the elf down the path of his own destruction. It had always been Fenris' choice whether he followed.

* * *

><p>Aedan meandered around the empty tables and chairs, his sword slung over his shoulder. His tilted his head to the side, giving Danarius a considering look. "I assume the blood I smell is the patrons and the employees of the inn?" He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Upstairs? So that Fenris wouldn't see the bodies and bolt?"<p>

"Very good. I would ask who you are, but my new pet has told me so much about you." The smile on Danarius' face was full of condescending slyness.

"Oo," Oghren jeered. "You're going to regret that one." The wardens and Varric took up a line behind Aedan, their weapons drawn.

With a smile that didn't reach his cold eyes, Aedan stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Did he now? That naughty boy. I'll have to spank him later." Behind him, Sigrun and Varric were moving tables and chairs away from the center of the room, their legs squealing as they scraped over the floor.

"You're assuming that he'll tolerate your touch." Danarius folded his hands together inside his robes. "He seems as dedicated to me as my little wolf once was."

"You bore me," Aedan pointed his sword at the magister. "I've fought darkspawn of the non-talking variety that said more interesting things. Now either stand there and let me run you through like a good little asshole so I can get back to my unthralled, fine piece of elf ass, or shut the void up and fight me. Either way I'm sick of this. You've come into _my_ city and slaughtered innocent people. Kidnapped _my _lover and did Maker knows _what_ to him, and all for the chance to take one of _my _men away from me?"

Aedan shook his head, a menacing grin on his face. "You should have come for him in Kirkwall when you had the chance. Now you're going to die in a seedy little inn. How embarrassing for you." Behind him, the dwarves were cackling with glee.

"I could command your lover to kill himself from here. He would die and there would be nothing you could do about it. How many people do you think I sacrificed for power tonight?" Despite his threat, Danarius looked a little less unsure of himself.

"Do it," Aedan retorted. "Do it and I will make your death legendary. No magister will want to step foot in Ferelden again from the nightmares of what I did do to you. Do you honestly think I give one single fuck?" He levered his sword at Danarius once more.

"Now, since you won't shut the fuck up, I'll help you." With a cry Aedan charged up the stairs.

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><p>Fenris had been stunned as Aedan and Danarius spoke. No one who had direct command over him had ever stood up for Fenris that way. He hadn't known what it had meant-until this very moment-what being a Grey Warden was really about. The wardens took from all walks of life. They didn't care where you came from, or what you had done as long as you did your job. There was a camaraderie in the Ferelden Grey Wardens that he'd never experienced before. He'd had a taste of it in Kirkwall, but nothing to this scale.<p>

Anders clamped a hand on his shoulder and Fenris looked up. "Yeah," Anders said, correctly reading the look on Fenris' face. "I felt the same way once. You'll get use to it, or die in the Deep Roads, whichever comes first."

Fenris opened his mouth to reply, but all around them, the floors erupted. Demons came pouring out of the tear in the Veil, surrounding them and cutting them off from Aedan.

Anders leaned down and gave Fenris a quick kiss. "Go, help Aedan. We've got your back."

Fenris gave him a searching look before his body shimmered. He turned and pulled his sword from his back, waving it in an arc to clear a path to the stairs. Above him he could hear Aedan's cries and Danarius' laughter.

He broke through the ring of demons and took the steps two at a time. When he reached the second floor, his feet almost slipped out from under him. He steadied himself on the wall and his hand came away wet. His brands flared brighter, illuminating the hallway, and he gasped.

The hallway was slick with fresh blood and viscera. The stench assaulted him and he breathed shallowly through his mouth to prevent from being sick. He'd always known that Danarius was mad, but to do something like this he must have truly gone insane.

Two sets of boot prints broke up the blood on the floor and Fenris followed them, his eyes darting between closed doors. Below him he could hear the battle raging on, and he clenched his teeth against the urge to go back down to Anders. He had to find Danarius before Aedan killed him. He needed answers.

At the end of the hall on his left was an open door. Firelight flickered out of it, highlighting the prints tracking inside. He could feel magic crackling in the air around him, pulling at his brands as he approached. Danarius' magic was familiar, but his skin crawled as he compared it to the feeling of what Anders did to him.

Anders magic was a caress. It was gentle, or it was full of intense heat. Danarius' magic clawed at his flesh, digging into him in a way that bordered on painful. How he could have once thought that Anders magic felt the same as his former master's, he would never know. It was a mistake he would not make again.

Pressing his back to the wall, Fenris' brands winked out and he peered around the doorframe into the room. If he'd thought that the hallway was horrifying, then what he witnessed in the room quickly disabused him of that notion.

Body parts so defaced that Fenris could no longer tell their gender, littered the floor in an intricate pattern. The carpet was soaked with blood, and it gave a sickening squelch as the two men inside circled each other.

"You're one sick bastard, you know that?" Aedan said as he twirled the sword in his hand. "I don't say that lightly either." His eyes flickered to the door and Fenris knew he'd been spotted when Aedan gave a almost imperceptible nod of his head. He moved to right, leading Danarius towards the door as the man followed his movements.

Scorch marks marred Aedan's armor and blood seeped from a wound on his scalp. He tossed his head, flicking his hair out of his eyes. "All this for one slave? I wonder if it has anything to do with what he can do in the Fade." He raised his shield as Danarius threw a lightning bolt at him. It connected with the steel and electricity moved over the metal, jumping to Aedan's armor. Aedan dropped his shield as his arm went numb, his face twisted with pain.

"So my wolf has finally figured out what he can do in the Fade," Danarius muse. "This shall make things easier when I bring him back to Minrathous. The circle will be very pleased."

Without him realizing, Danarius had copied Aedan's movements enough that his back was directly in front of the doorway. In a flash, Fenris ignited his brands, thrusting his arm into the magister's back as he stepped into the room.

"I am not your wolf," he hissed in the man's ear.

Danarius' voice came out in a choked gurgle. "You'll always be mine. No one in Tevinter will let you go now that you know about the doorway."

He had always imagined that Danarius' heart was black and shriveled, but it felt like any other organ he'd ever had in his hands. It was mundane, the feel of it familiar against his fingers. It made Danarius seem less like a monster and more like the insane blood mage he was.

"Where does the doorway lead?" Fenris demanded, his hand squeezing just enough to feel his heart stutter.

Danarius only laughed. "You don't know?" He rolled his eyes over to Aedan. "You have no idea of what you have saved this night. You would have been better off letting him leave with me…or killing him."

"Tell me!" Fenris let go of the heart, giving Danarius a small reprieve that was quickly taken away when he grasped it once more.

"No." Danarius smiled, his eyes becoming glazed with fervor. "No. I like that you will suffer when you find out. I like that when others find out, you will be hunted. It will be my last gift to you, my wolf. The circles will hunt you. The Chantry will hunt you. There will be no place you may go without fear of discovery. Being at my side will become a lovely memory for you, something you will regret you never came back to."

Fenris began to shake, his body trembling. But it wasn't until Danarius said his last words that he became afraid.

"Your mage will turn on you. He will use you for his own glory. Pray that he never find out."

With a cry of denial, Fenris yanked back his arm, ripping the heart from Danarius' chest. The body slumped to the floor, blood oozing out to collect with the already saturated carpet. Fenris held the heart in his hand, staring at it as if he expected it to still be beating.

Aedan walked slowly over to him, cradling his injured arm to his chest. "Don't listen to him. You're a warden now. We don't give up our own. We don't bow down to the circles, or to the Chantry."

Fenris abruptly opened his hand, and the heart dropped to the floor, rolling towards Aedan's feet.

"The hardest lesson I have to teach any of my men is that I don't care who you are. You're a warden now, one of my wardens." Aedan stomped on the organ, crushing it under his boot. "No one fucks with my men. I had enough of that during the last blight."


	25. Chapter 25

Thanks to everyone that has been reading, reviewing, and putting this on their alerts!

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><p>Anders awoke to an empty bed. He slid a hand over the spot next to him and felt nothing but cold bedding. He flicked his eyes up to Fenris' pillow and noticed that it was smooth and pristine. No dent from the elf's head marred the surface. He rolled over onto his back and scrubbed at his bleary eyes with his palms.<p>

By the time Anders had made it back to the keep, the sun had long since risen. Exhausted, he had stumbled to the room he shared with Fenris to find the elf hadn't returned yet. Fenris had left with Aedan, the two of them silent and saying very little as to what had happened with Danarius. That the magister was dead there was no doubt. The demons they had been battling had abruptly melted away, the fight ending without fanfare.

Aedan had allowed Anders to look at the arm that hung limply from his side while he gave short, but precise instructions. Fenris and Aedan would be returning immediately to the keep to check on Zevran. A bleakness appeared in the Warden-Commander's eyes when he mentioned his lover's name, but it disappeared so quickly, Anders wasn't sure if he had even seen it. He would dispatch wardens from the keep to cordon off the inn. They were to stay here and go through the building to make sure that Danarius hadn't left any nasty surprises. Once the wardens came and the building was secure, they could return to the keep to get some well earned rest.

Aedan had glanced up at the ceiling and sucked in a slow breath. "I want this place razed to the ground. I'll instruct the men I'm sending to salvage as much personal effects as they can to help identify bodies." He breathed a sigh of relief when the feeling returned in his arm and he rolled it at the joints, testing it.

"If the owner had heirs then they will be compensated for the loss of property, but I don't want any piece of timber to remain standing." He and Fenris shared a significant look. "Once you've seen the second floor, you'll know why."

He had then pointed at the unconscious woman on the floor. "I want that _woman_ brought back to the keep. I don't care what condition she's in. Just make sure she can talk by this evening."

Unable to get back to sleep, Anders yawned and sat up in bed. He dislodged Pounce, who gave him a disgruntled mew as he rolled down the blanket to settle between Anders' legs.

Upon reaching the second floor, Anders had understood immediately why Aedan wanted the place destroyed. There was no salvaging what had been done to it. He had been able to make it as far as halfway down the hallway before his stomach had begun to rebel.

The bile in his throat had won the fight and he'd become sick in a corner when he reached the last room.

He had tried to talk to Fenris and check him over for injuries, but the elf had brushed him off, stating that he needed some air and he would see Anders back at the keep. That had hurt, but Anders wouldn't let the elf see it. If Fenris needed time, then Anders would give it to him.

Just not for long.

There was no lonely mansion to retreat to, and very little good wine to keep him company at the keep. Anders refused to allow Fenris to pull away from him. This wasn't Kirkwall and there were few places to hide in the keep. Anders should know. So when he saw the empty bed, he hadn't felt more than a twinge of worry, but now that it appeared that Fenris had not returned to the room at all, Anders was compelled to seek him out.

"This isn't going to be fun, Pounce, "Anders warned the cat as he slipped out of the bed and streatched. He grunted as stiff muscles protested the action. He had worn himself out, pushing his body harder than he had in a long while.

He could still taste the lyrium potions on his tongue, and he went to the water pitcher next to the wash basin to pour himself something to get rid of the lingering bitterness. Fighting and healing during the battle in the common room had taken every ounce of his skill. The demons had been relentless. When one would sink into the floor boards dead, another would take its place. Anders had never seen so many summoned at one time, and that included all of the blood mages he had fought along Hawke's side.

A particularly nasty Desire demon had given them the most trouble. Varric and Nathaniel of all people had almost fallen under its sway. It had promised them both the objects of their desire. Anders shook his head, still unable to believe that either one of them had hidden depths that entailed needs of the flesh so strongly, that a Desire demon would latch onto it. Varric had seemed particularly rattled by the encounter when she had disappeared along with the others when Danarius was killed.

"I don't want to know, Pounce. I really don't." Pounce stared at him as if to say, 'Oh, yes you do. Why are you lying?'

Anders combed his hair and wrapped a strip of leather around the strands he gathered to hold them back from his face. He had been too tired to do nothing more than strip his grimy clothes off, and let them fall forgotten on the floor before falling into bed. He grimaced at the dirt and blood that still clung to his skin, and was afraid to look back and see what a mess he had made of the bed. He dunked a cloth and a cake of soap into the wash basin and scrubbed at his body. If only he could cleanse the image of that room from his mind.

He and Velanna agreed that Danarius had not used the sacrifices to harm Zevran. There had been no time for a spell that complicated, and the quantity of demons that had risen would have used most of the power that Danarius had collected.

Anders slipped into his old clothes and felt comforted by their familiar weight. He sat on the bed and slid into his boots. Pounce bumped his head against Anders' back, and he paused to reach around and scratch at the cat's chin.

"Wish me luck, Pounce. I know you like having him here with us, even if it's just for the extra warmth at night." He stood and eyed the filthy sheets. "I'll come back with some new bedding too."

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><p>Fenris hadn't slept in over a day. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard Danarius and his pronouncement ringing in his ears. With his armor discarded next to him, Fenris sat on the cold floor of the dungeon in front of a locked cell. He had been here ever since they had dragged Varania in. His hands were draped over a bent knee, while the other leg was stretched out before him. He stared at the woman who lay unconscious on her side, willing her to awaken as he had for the past several hours. She occupied the cell Zevran had vacated the moment Aedan had assured himself that the elf was still alive.<p>

It had been a little embarrassing to watch the two of them cling to each other. Aedan's hands had run over the elf, cataloguing each wound and bruise Zevran had. Zevran in return had whispered in a low murmur into Aedan's ear, reassuring the man that he was fine.

Aedan and Fenris had spoken very little on the hectic ride back to the keep. The brutal pace that Aedan set did not allow for much conversation. When Fenris did broach the subject of his sister, Aedan had replied that she was being held until the Arl of Amaranthine decided on a judgment concerning her crimes. He had ticked them off, the list growing longer with each breath. Attempted murder and murder came up several times.

Fenris pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead, in an attempt to ease the pressure that hunger and sleep deprivation had created. Everything was turned on its side. He had asked for what Danarius had done to him, and he was no closer to finding the answers that he needed. Danarius' voice haunted him, hounding his thoughts until they ran around in circles and he no longer knew what to believe. That the man would lie was a given. It would be just like him to show Fenris one last path to dance down merrily to his own destruction. But Fenris didn't think he had lied. Danarius had nothing left to lose, and his last words had been cruel enough.

His eyes dropped down to the flagstones, and he stared at them as if they could give him the answers he sought if only he looked hard enough. Why would the Chantry want to hunt him down? Why would the circles for that matter? What did he possess that they both would want to kill or use him for?

It was on the tip of his tongue, he could just feel it. He slid his fingers through his hair and gripped the strands tightly, just shy of painful. What did magisters and the Chantry want with…

And then he knew.

The force of the realization took the breath from his lungs. For a moment, he could have sworn his heart stopped before the organ sped up, thundering in his chest. His mind rebelled from the idea, but the more he thought on it, the more it made a horrifying sense.

There was only one thing that the templars, the Chantry, the circles and the magisters had in common. It existed in the Fade, and Fenris—_Fenris_—was the literal key, built in pain and lyrium to open the door that no mortal was meant to walk through.

The last time mortals had, they had caused the first blight.

Fenris knew now what he had seen in the doorway, and why Justice had said that he would kill Fenris if he ever came back to the Fade.

Danarius had found a way back into the Black City, and Fenris was the one that could unlock its gates.

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><p>AN:

So I have had this in the works for a while now. It came to me for a few reasons. The chief of which was the description for one of Fenris' skills, Lyrium Ghost. It says, "While this mode is active, Fenris fades into a wraithlike state and becomes difficult to track on the battlefield." It got me thinking as to why that would be and why Danarius would have done that to him. I thought his motives would have been what all magisters want, power from the Black City.


	26. Chapter 26

Thank you to everyone for your wonderful reviews and suggestions!

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><p>Anders found Fenris in the first place he looked—the dungeon. With a loaf of bread in his hands, he walked silently towards the elf. Fenris had his hair gripped tightly between his fingers, and he stared down intently at the flagstones as if he could see right through them by will alone.<p>

"Fenris?" The elf's eyes shot towards him, and Anders felt his heart clench at the anguish reflected there. He knew he shouldn't have left him alone for so long. As he crouched down on the floor, Fenris' eyes became shuttered, his face impassive.

"What time is it?" He sounded exhausted, the normal ebb and flow of his voice dulled with fatigue.

"Just after the noon bell." Anders sat down and tore the soft bread in two. It was still warm from the ovens and steam wafted from the fluffy innards. He took a bite with a grateful sigh and held out the other half for Fenris.

"Eat," he mumbled around the food in his mouth. "You must be starving. I take it you haven't been to sleep yet?"

Fenris plucked the food from Anders fingers and turned it over in his hands before nibbling on the end. "You would be correct. It's pass the noon bell?" He glanced over at Anders out of the corner of his eyes. "I'm surprised you waited this long to find me. That must have taken much restraint."

"Too tired," Anders replied honestly. "I did go looking as soon as I woke up, though. But if you want to think I was showing restraint, then who am I to judge?"

"Who indeed?" Fenris gave Anders a considering look before returning to his meal. He hadn't realized how ravenous he was until the smell of bread had hit the air. Taking careful bites so as not to distress his empty stomach with too much food at once, Fenris came to a few decisions.

He had to tell Anders. There had been enough secrets between them, few of which had ever done either of them any good. Danarius had looked at Anders through a magister's eyes, seeing only another mage and not the man beneath. Fenris had made that mistake before, and he had vowed never to do it again. Danarius' world was colored by his life in the Imperium. He couldn't fathom a mage that did not want power. If there was any mage on the face of Thedas that _didn't_ want power, it was Anders.

If he didn't put his faith in Anders, then who could he trust?

They ate in easy silence, content with giving the other time to fill their belly. When Anders had brushed the last of the crumbs from his fingers, he stood up and held out his hand. "Come on. I know a nice spot where we won't be disturbed."

It occurred to Fenris that Anders was taking it as a given that he was going to tell the mage what had happened. In the past, an assumption like that would have rankled, denoting a familiarity that Fenris went out of his way to avoid. It was just another sign of just how much he had come to trust Anders, that he didn't give it much more than a brief thought before taking his hand and allowing Anders to pull him to his feet.

Anders' nose wrinkled. "You do realize you have dried blood on the bottom of your feet, right? See, we have this wonderful invention called shoes. You wear them to protect your feet and if they get dirty, you can take them off. You should try them sometime."

On the other hand, he thought as he followed Anders to the upper levels of the keep, there were times that Anders could just be plain annoying. _That _was never going to change.

Anders led him across the courtyard and up twisting stairs; he opened a door located at the very top of the keep with a flourish. They stepped out into one of the higher towers, and the sun that shone high above them almost blinded Fenris. He squinted against the light until his eyes became use to it and followed Anders where the mage stood overlooking the keep.

"I use to come here a lot when I was trying to escape the templar that tricked Aedan into letting him join. You can see someone coming across the courtyard, so I could escape before he spotted me. Of course he _did_ end up cornering me one day, but we all know how that ended."

"Aedan is going to send for some templars to deal with my sister," Fenris said quietly.

"Yeah," Anders blew out a slow breath. "She came to for a short period of time after I healed her. Velanna got a little too trigger happy with the sleep spell. She wasn't too pleased with her." He placed a hand on Fenris' shoulder and squeezed lightly. "I'm sorry, Fenris."

"Don't be. She chose her path in life. I shouldn't have expected more than that."

"Don't say that. You had every right to expect her to," Anders waved his hands, searching for the right words, "be what you wanted. It's not your fault that she wasn't."

"Oh, but it was. I did this to myself. I fought for the right, killing others much stronger than me, but less skilled. Thinking back on it now, I think Danarius wanted someone who had a strong will to live. Anyone else would have died during the ritual. I did it to gain her freedom, along with my mother's."

Fenris watched the wardens below walking across the courtyard. He felt detached from them and their lives. "She told me that her freedom was a burden. She couldn't find work and eventually," Fenris swallowed, grateful that for once Anders wasn't saying anything. "Eventually she became an apprentice to a magister. I had no idea that my sister was a mage." He let out a bitter, short bark of laughter. "How much of a hypocrite does that make me? After everything that I've said to you."

Anders did interject then. "I don't know. I'm not going to lie and say that you were the biggest asshole in Kirkwall—Meredith gets that honor—but you were running a close second. I forgave you long ago."

Staring at his hands, Fenris noticed how dirt and blood had embedded themselves in the fine lines on his palms. "I…I need to tell you what Danarius said to me before I killed him." He couldn't make himself look at Anders-not yet.

He licked lips suddenly gone dry. "He told me that the Chantry, the templars, and even the circles would hunt me down if they found out why he had me branded. I didn't believe him at first, but the look in his eyes…"

"Why would—"

"Please, let me finish," Fenris said in a rush. If Anders spoke then he would never be able to get it all out. "I've been sitting in the dungeon for hours, trying to puzzle out what he meant. He thought that we knew. When Aedan asked him if his want of me had anything to do with what I could do in the Fade. He'd thought then that we _knew_. He seemed elated." Fenris closed his eyes and replayed for the thousandth time the tone of Danarius' voice. "So I asked myself, what in the Fade would a magister want? What would the Chantry want?"

"Maker," Anders breathed. "It couldn't be."

Fenris did glance at Anders then, and noticed the dawning of understanding on his face. He looked like someone had punched him in the gut, his normally pale skin losing what little color it had. His eyes searched Fenris' with the glimmer of hope that what the elf was going to say next would prove Anders wrong.

"That doorway we saw," Fenris pushed on, holding the mage's gaze with his own intense stare. "That doorway leads to the Black City."

"That's insane!" Anders burst out. He stepped back and ran his fingers through his hair, dislodging some of the strands from their tie.

"Yes. But as we saw, Danarius was not the sanest of men."

"That's…" Anders was at a loss for words. He shook his head, denying what Fenris was saying as his words accepted it. "Does Aedan know?"

Fenris shook his head. "No. I had only just pieced it together. I think…" He took a deep breath. "I think he should be informed. I cannot allow this darkspawn of his find out."

"Oh, no. Oh, no, no. The Architect can _never_ find out. You think Danarius is nuts? At least he didn't accidently set off a fucking blight."

"Not with want of trying it would appear," Fenris said dryly. Something that had been twisting inside him for hours eased. He knew he had made the right decision in telling Anders. Danarius wasn't going to take him away from Fenris the way he had taken and skewed everything else in the elf's life.

"Oh, shit. Was that a joke?" Anders swiped at his face with his hands. "I'm the one suppose to be making jokes, I thought we agreed on that."

And just like that, the tension was gone. Anders could be relied upon to be Anders. Bad jokes at inappropriate times and all. Fenris felt his lips twitch in a small smile before his face sobered. "There's more."

"'More,' he says." Anders raised his eyebrows.

"Danarius was convinced the wardens would want me, or try to kill me if they knew. I need your opinion on this. If I tell Aedan, will he be obligated to tell Weisshaupt?"

Anders ran his fingers through is hair again, his hair tie finally giving up and falling to the ground dejectedly. "I don't know. Aedan is different than what he use to be. Before, I would have said no. That Aedan would have thumbed his nose at the First Warden and told him to shove it. But he's changed." He pressed his fingertips to his lips, and his eyes looking inward as he considered. "Aedan might not tell them. No good can come of wardens wanting to enter the Black City, he would see that. I can't speak for Weisshaupt though. They have too much power in the Anderfels, they do things differently there. They might see it as their duty to either kill you to prevent anyone else from entering, or trying themselves to see exactly what had caused the blight."

Fenris nodded to himself. "I will have to take my chances with Aedan, and pray that he hasn't changed as much as you think. There would be no logical excuse I could give him in order to get out of seeing the Architect."

He hesitated. He knew what the answer to his next question would be, but the part of him that still doubted what he and Anders had together-the part that doubted himself-wasn't quite so sure. "If this goes badly, if Aedan isn't what we hope and he informs Weisshaupt—"

Anders finished the thought for him, confirming Fenris' belief in him. "Then we run. We're both quite good at it, you know."

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><p>Fenris stood up in the bathing tub, sloshing water on the floor when he climbed out. He curled his lips at the dingy water, while he ran a drying cloth over his body. Despite appearances to the contrary, Fenris did not like to be filthy. The ability to bathe when he wished was one of his first real pleasures as a free man. When he had lived in Kirkwall, the only room he had cleaned-other than the one he had slept in—had been the bathing chamber. He'd had to heat and haul the water himself, but he did it every night if he was able. To have even that slightest bit of control over his body and its needs had been heady. There were a series of bathing chambers in each wing of the keep. The wardens were encouraged to use them frequently.<p>

He pulled on the clean clothes he had brought with him with a sigh of relief. His eyes began to droop and he almost lost his balance when he pulled his leggings on. He needed sleep badly. He tossed the clothes he wore into the Three Corners in the fire, watching them burn.

He no longer felt like himself. He felt disconnected from everything around him, as if the events of the night before had happened to someone else. The part of him that had longed for some sort of connection to his past, recoiled at the idea of Varania being handed over to the templars. During his vigil in the dungeon, he had made a myriad of excuses for her actions and her complacency. But in the end, he could not get around the fact that she had stood by and allowed Danarius to slaughter those people for his own gain.

The irony that he was trying to make excuses for her did not escape him. She was everything he had professed to despise—a mage who would sell out her own family for power. The likelihood that she had helped Danarius just made it worse. It would make her a blood mage that killed the innocent without thought for their humanity.

When the last of his clothes turned to ash, Fenris forced himself to leave the room. Anders would come looking for him if he was gone for too long. Fenris knew the mage regretted not looking for him right away the first time—he didn't think Anders would hold out again.

He needed to see Varania and talk to her one last time before the templars came. His memory was still gone, only snatches of his former life had returned to him-that was where the disconnect had started. From what he had seen, Leto was a man that Fenris could not relate to. He had lived his whole life as a slave, just as Fenris had, but he had not rebelled. He had jumped at the chance to better himself, to bring his family freedom and himself glory.

He had been complacent and the cost of that had been too high.

No matter that they wore the same skin, Fenris was different. He had told Hawke once that Hadriana had been a torment to him. Most of that had been his own doing, his unwillingness to give in to his master's games. Two times—when he had seen his moment—he had escaped. Freedom had been all that Fenris had ever wanted, where Leto had only entrenched himself deeper into the life of a slave.

_Maybe_, thought Fenris. _Maybe I am too hard on him. He had others to protect, and I had no one._ Truth be told, if he had a chance to give Anders his freedom, would he have taken it? Even if it meant selling himself to those that brokered in evil?

He already knew the answer to that. He had come to Vigil's Keep without knowing what the wardens would be like to save Anders. Yes, it had saved his life as well, but Fenris had not been afraid of dying. But the thought that coming here might give Anders his chance at living the life he should had consumed him, giving him the focus he had needed to get Anders out of the Gallows.

He opened the door to their room and saw that Anders had fallen asleep waiting for him. Pounce blinked blearily up at him from where he was perched on Anders' chest. His rumbling purr filled the room when he saw it was Fenris.

For reasons beyond him, the cat had taken a liking to Fenris. Anders insisted it was proof that Fenris needed more cat in his life, but Fenris—like most outrageous statements that Anders made—didn't believe it.

He pulled off his clothes after he quietly closed the door, slipping into bed. Anders had sprawled out, and Fenris had to nudge the mage hard to get him to roll over in his sleep. He grumbled, muttering something unintelligible and wrapped his arm around Pounce, who had fallen off his chest. The moment Fenris' head hit the pillow and he pulled the blanket warmed with Anders' body heat over him, Fenris fell into much needed sleep.

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><p>For once Fenris had not woken up before Anders. It went unspoken that they both had leave for a few days to recoup after the Three Corners. So not only had Anders been the first to open his eyes, he had the luxury of staying in bed with—and to scrutinize—a sleeping Fenris.<p>

Fenris looked so young when he slept, and Anders wondered just how old the elf really was. _Not_ that he was complaining. He was only continuing the fine tradition of older mage and younger, much prettier men. That Fenris was pretty was a given. Anders had never met an elf that wasn't, not really. His lips quirked when he thought of what Fenris would say if he called him pretty. Soft breaths came from parted lips, and the furrows that etched Fenris' face into a permanent scowl were smoothed out.

Truthfully, Anders didn't know what Aedan was going to do when he was told about Fenris. If they ran, it would be different than when Anders had left the wardens. Fenris might be more important than Anders had been to the wardens. A faked death or slipping away in the night wouldn't cut it.

Anders groaned and scratched the back of his neck. But if there was anything that Anders was good at it was escaping. Sure, some of those escapes were dumb luck, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from counting them.

Thinking about the things Fenris had told reminded him of Varania. That Aedan would bring templars into the keep, after what they tried to do to Anders… He closed his eyes and tried to bank his rage. He had to make sure that Aedan gave her a fair hearing before he did that. If it turned out that she wasn't as complicit as it appeared, then Anders was going to fight to make sure that she wasn't sent to the circle. Desperate mages did foolish things. If she had felt as if there had been no other option… He groaned again and opened his eyes to see Fenris looking at him.

"Dare I ask what has you so upset that you feel the need to bemoan it so loudly?" The elf gave him a baleful glare.

"Uh…" This was not the kind of conversation one wanted to have first thing in the morning. _Hello, love. Say, your sister that you despise? Yeah, I kind of want to help her. Why? Because I hate the templars and I don't want to see anyone end up in their clutches. What's that? You think I'm an idiot? Business as usual then. Carry on. _

Not happening.

Fenris blinked at him slowly, waiting for an answer.

"I was wondering how old you were," Anders lied. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. He _did_ want to know the answer.

From the look on his face, that hadn't been what Fenris had been expecting. "I'm not sure. I think I'm at least twenty-six. Why?"

"I don't know. There are certain things we don't know about each other. I was just thinking on that. I don't usually get to know my partners very well-there was no point in the circle. People got moved all the time; lovers were split up for various reasons. Why should I get to know someone when they're just going to leave me?"

"And you don't think I am going to leave you, so now you want to know," Fenris surmised.

A flush crept up Anders' neck. "Something like that."

Fenris looked off to a point just beyond Anders' head and went silent. Anders felt his palms become sweaty and he clenched the blanket to his bare chest to hide them. He should have kept his mouth shut. Things were fine the way they were between them, there was no need to—

"My name is Leto," fenris said suddenly.

Anders' thoughts jerked to a halt, and he let go of the death grip he had on the poor, unoffending blanket. "That's…"

"Ridiculous," Fenris stated flatly. "That's what it is. It doesn't feel right. When Varania called me that, I remembered. I know she did not lie, but that's not me."

"I know how that is. Anders isn't my name. It's what all people from the Anderfels are called. How stupid is that. It would be like if you were from Ferelden and I called you Ferel, or Den, or maybe Relden. Relden of Ferelden. Anders of Anderfels. They did it because I was old enough to know better. I knew what it was like to have a family—such as it was." Anders shrugged. "So they took my name away and gave me a new one. I don't know what I'd do if I was called anything else except for Anders now. I've had it far longer than…" he paused and chewed on his lower lip.

"Than?" Fenris prompted softly.

"Adelric." Anders shuddered. "Maker, I haven't ever told anyone that. I don't think I've even said it out loud since I was taken into the circle. Don't tell anyone, _Leto_." Anders stressed Fenris' name. "I'm not that scared kid anymore. Adelric died a long time ago."

A shadow cleared in Fenris' eyes. Anders hadn't even been aware it was there until it was gone, swept away by something that Anders couldn't name. "And Leto died too. I should let him rest in peace instead of disturbing his grave. He died trying to do what was right for his family, against adversaries that were more than he could handle. I should respect that and let it lie."

"But your sister," Anders began. He immediately wished he could take the words back. Why did he always do that?

The shadows were back in Fenris' eyes. "I can do nothing for her. Aedan has made his choice."

"But you can't give up on her." _Damn it, Anders. Shut up._ It was like he was watching the world's biggest idiot clod his way through an apothecary's shop, knocking over bottles of precious elixirs while screaming, 'Argh!'

"Can't I?" Fenris asked harshly. "She gave up on me. I was nothing more than a thing to her. I was no less than the coin she used to barter her way into power. I will not be used like that, not by a _vile mage_."

Those last few words may not have echoed in the room, but it felt that way all the same. "I thought you were passed this," Anders whispered brokenly.

"Don't." Fenris rolled on top of Anders, trapping him beneath him. "Don't look like that." He pressed his forehead to Anders until all he could see was the green of Fenris' eyes.

"I cannot just get pass this. It's not as simple as wishing a lifetime's worth of pain away. Would you have me ask you to get passed what the templars did to you?"

"I…"

"I love you. I am trying. Give me that at least." He pressed a quick, desperate kiss to Anders' lips. "I am sorry that I said it. I don't wish to hurt you."

Anders drew in a shaky breath. "All right. I shouldn't have brought it up so early. But we do need to do something."

"I mean to speak to her later today. I don't wish to see her die anymore than you do. I just… have so much anger in me. Sometimes I say things without thought."

He turned his head away and Anders touched his hands to his face, gently moving him back. "You're speaking to someone that had a spirit of Justice turn into Vengeance. I know all about rage. I know about saying things that should never be spoken. " He smiled and pressed a kiss to Fenris' lips. "Now, why don't you make it up to me."

"You forgive me that easily?" Fenris looked down at Anders in surprise and more than a little suspicion.

"If you make me beg for it, I'll forgive you the next five things you do," Anders promised. The mage wore nothing but his smallclothes and Fenris was naked and straddling him. He slid his hands down Fenris' neck and over his shoulders. Every time he was with Fenris, Anders couldn't believe he had the luxury of touching the elf like this. It was addictive, all that compact muscle playing just under olive skin. His fingertips traced over the raised brands on the elf's back and he sent a small trickle of magic through them. Fenris' eyes slid shut and a moan escaped his parted lips. He rocked his hips slightly over Anders, and he could feel Fenris' erection pressing insistently into his stomach.

Leaning down, Fenris' warm breath panted into Anders' ear. "The things you do to me. I can't get enough of you." His teeth bit down gently on Anders' earlobe, causing a slight sting of pain that zipped down between Anders' thighs.

"I want all of you this time," Fenris whispered, his voice smooth silk. "I want you to take that wonderful cock of yours and fuck me with it."


	27. Chapter 27

To the people that have been reviewing, adding this story to their favorites, or putting it on your alerts, and frankly, just reading it, THANK YOU!

A/N:

I thought the boys needed a break.

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><p>At first, Anders hadn't thought he had heard Fenris correctly. He was still sleeping and having a very detailed sex dream. That's what it was. But when he felt teeth rasp over his neck, he knew it was all too real.<p>

"Why?" Anders croaked out. _Good one. Try to talk the object of your fantasies out of letting you fuck him. You really are an idiot._

One of Fenris' hands caressed Anders' nipple, rolling it into a hard point on his chest. "Because I want this. I want this for myself." He pulled back and sat upright on top of Anders. The mage felt his mouth go dry at the sight of a naked and aroused Fenris, with his thighs open and legs straddling Anders' waist. He almost didn't hear what Fenris was telling him.

"In recent memory I have only ever been with a few people. Two of those have been of my own free will. Why can't I have my lover fuck me if I wish it and he is willing? Why can't I give the one I love something of myself freely?"

Anders knew the smile he gave Fenris was sappy, but he didn't care. Out of the two of them, he was the admittedly more romantic. He gave Fenris pet names and his hands drifted to touch the elf at all hours of the day. Fenris on the other hand, only scowled when Anders' more romantic nature reared its head. Anders ignored it, though. The frown lacked the heat behind it that would have shown Fenris' true disdain.

But when Fenris did speak from the heart as he was now, the rarity of it made it that much more poignant for Anders. It was a side of Fenris that only he got to see, and he hoarded that knowledge like the Chantry hoarded lyrium.

Anders blinked rapidly to prevent tears from falling from his eyes. Fenris would draw the line at him blubbering like an idiot. "Love, I—"

_Wait a moment._

"Wait a moment," he repeated out loud. "Two? Who—" He broke off on a moan as Fenris shrewdly rolled his hips. He bent down and braced his palms flat on either side of Anders' shoulders.

"Does it matter? I guarantee you that I won't be thinking of them when you're cock deep in my ass."

Anders found it hard to track his thoughts. All the blood in his brain rushed down to his groin where Fenris was exuding wonderful pressure in all the right ways. He gave a pained groan when Fenris scratched his nails down Anders' chest. Eight pink lines marred the surface of his pale skin, and Fenris leaned down to trace the path of each one with his tongue.

"Why am I talking?" Anders asked the ceiling. His fingertips danced their way up Fenris' bent legs to cup and squeeze his finely toned ass.

Fenris looked up at Anders through hooded eyes, the tip of his tongue pausing on his left nipple. "Do you want the answer to that?" In reply, Anders rolled them both over and hooked Fenris' legs tighter around his waist.

"You'll let me do as I wish?" he asked instead. His voice had gone husky as his brain ran over the possibilities.

"Within reason." Fenris speared his fingers through Anders' hair, and held out the golden strands to the light, watching them fall back down as they slipped away.

Anders didn't know the full extent of what Danarius had done to Fenris. They had not talked about the insinuations that the magister had made. Fenris was showing Anders his trust in the best way he knew how.

Leaning forward, Anders brushed his lips along Fenris'. "Then kiss me." When their lips met, Anders sank himself into the kiss. He had always wanted to spend some time just kissing Fenris. He loved the taste of the elf. The wine he had with every meal now, mixed with Fenris' own flavor created a sensory sensation that swamped Anders' mind. As the kiss deepened, each press of their lips, each slide of their tongues, each parting for a quick gasp of shaky breath, became a dance all its own.

Anders thought he could just come from kissing Fenris alone. The sighs the elf made, combined with the moans he uttered into Anders' lips, and their shared breaths had his cock straining in his smalls. The bump of their lips fell into the same rhythm as the heartbeat in his throbbing prick. He rutted into Fenris, trapping the elf's cock between them. He could feel the silky slide of Fenris' hairless erection rubbing over his abdomen.

He didn't know how long they kissed, but when he pulled back one final time, gasping for breath, his lips felt swollen and bruised. Fenris… Fenris looked debauched, like someone's wet dream. He lay sprawled out under Anders, his hair tangled, and his prick hard and leaking freely. He stared at the mage through eyes that were half lidded and full of answering heat. A flush had risen just under Fenris' skin, and his chest rose and fell with each panting breath.

Anders pulled away, slipped his small clothes off and tossed them to the floor. He leaned back on his elbows and quirked an eyebrow at Fenris. "Come here."

The elf did not hesitate as he sat up. With a sultry smile on his face, he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled towards Anders. The muscles in Fenris' body rolled sinuously, each movement meant to drive Anders insane. Anders put all his weight on one arm and slid a hand down his chest. He felt the slight burn of the scratches there, and he lingered at each one before caressing down his stomach. As he watched Fenris come closer, his fingers tangled in the slight bush of dark golden hair at the base of his shaft. He cupped his balls, lifting them towards the elf when Fenris reached him.

They stared at each other, Fenris' eyes flicking between Anders' and his prick. "What do you want, Anders?" he asked softly.

There were certain games that they played that Anders knew Fenris would not give up. This was one of them.

"I want you to suck my cock." Anders' voice was lower in his ears than he had ever heard it before. "I want you to take it all down your throat until it chokes you, then I want you to take it further." He waited, a thread of apprehension running through him. It was no more than what Fenris had ever asked of him, but he wasn't sure if the elf would do it.

"And if I don't?" Fenris lowered the upper half of his body down until his face was level with Anders' erection. His bottom half was still raised and he spread his legs, arching his back and raising his ass further. Anders could just see Fenris' cock pointing straight down to the bed, a thread of precum falling to the sheets.

Anders drew in a shaky breath and ran his hand up his dick, squeezing the head until it just peeked out in the tight ring of his fingers. "Then you get to watch."

Fenris nuzzled his nose into Anders' balls, lifting the sac lightly. "Tempting, but I will have to decline. He ran his tongue up Anders' shaft and the mage released himself and leaned back. He forced himself to watch as Fenris teased his tongue around the glans, his cock hardening further until it was almost painful before the elf moved away. Fenris caught and held Anders' gaze with hungry eyes as he parted his lips.

Wet heat enveloped Anders and he hissed out between clenched teeth. His hands fisted the sheet under him in an effort to not grab at the elf's head and force him down quicker. The long, slow glide of Fenris' mouth was torture. Fenris might have given Anders permission to do what he willed, but he was going to make sure Anders suffered in all the best ways for it.

He felt Fenris' throat ripple around his prick as the elf swallowed, but still he pressed on, and didn't stop until his nose hit Anders' pelvis.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," Anders muttered. "Fuck that feels good."

Fenris moaned in appreciation and pulled back just as slowly, his cheeks hallowing out as his tongue teased the head of his cock. Anders needed to regain control of the situation. At this rate he would be begging for Fenris to fuck him to put him out of his misery.

He moved his hips away when Fenris released him and spun around on the bed. "Stay there." He wiggled under Fenris and his spread legs, his cock painting fluid over Anders' cheek and neck. He gripped Fenris' thighs and spread them wider, gliding his hands over his smooth ass and pulling the globes of his cheeks apart. He rubbed his thumbs in circles over the elf's entrance. Fenris tensed until Anders gave it a soothing kiss. When he felt the elf relax once more and drop his weight onto Anders, the mage swirled the tip of his tongue around his anus with light, teasing strokes. Fenris retaliated by sinking once more onto Anders' erection. This time he took him down quicker, and the shock of his tight lips along his shaft had Anders moaning in approval.

Each circuit around the elf's entrance he dipped his tongue just inside before retreating again. When he felt Fenris was sufficiently relaxed, he delved further inside, his mouth opening wide to press his tongue deeper. On the last pass, Fenris' head shot up and he cried out in surprised pleasure when Anders traded his tongue for his finger. He sank it deep inside, crooking it at just the right spot. He chuckled low, glad for once he was about to show Fenris something new. He touched his index finger from his other hand to just under Fenris' sac and sent a small jolt of electricity dancing through the elf.

Fenris ripped his head away to avoid snapping his teeth together on Anders' prick. A shudder ran through him at the sensation and he groaned. He was barely aware of backing up into Anders' hands, silently begging for more of what the mage could give him.

When he had been with Danarius, the magister had taken without a thought for Fenris' pleasure beyond what would humiliate him more. Anders was proving Fenris' faith in him on his body, strumming each nerve ending inside him in ways he had never felt before.

Unable to risk taking his cock back in his mouth, Fenris enclosed it in both his fists and began pumping. The saliva soaked length slipped through the ring he made with his fingers. His movements became uncoordinated as Anders sent jolt after jolt through his body. It didn't just run a circuit through his balls and the nerves inside him, the feeling of Anders calling on magic pulled on his brands, making him nothing more than a writhing body that was open and willing to let Anders take and do what he willed.

It was a loss of control that frightened him at first, but the smell of sex and Anders permeated the air. It was a reminder of who he was with, and what they shared.

He dropped his head and bit down sharply on Anders' inner thigh. Anders grunted and he smiled against his skin. "Stop playing and fuck me."

The fingers in his ass paused. "Are you begging me?" Anders' leg jerked as Fenris bit him again in retaliation.

"Do you want me to?" Fenris would do it if Anders wanted him to. He was so close to doing it anyway, that one more spell would send him babbling over the edge.

"I should. For all the times you've made me." Anders corkscrewed his finger into his ass and he gasped. "Turn around. I want you to ride me."

Fenris sat up when Anders pulled his fingers free. He straddled the mage's waist and could feel his erection brushing against his backside insistently. Anders reached over and grabbed the vial of elfroot extract from the bedside table. He poured some out on his palm and reached around Fenris to coat his erection.

Anders pressed the back of his head into the mattress and closed his eyes. "Shit. I won't last long." Fenris braced his hands on the mage's chest and leaned forward.

"Neither will I," he admitted. Two slick fingers entered him and Fenris rolled his hips into them. When Anders pulled free, Fenris rose up and guided the mage's cock to his entrance. Anders was staring at Fenris was such need, that his cock jumped in response. The slightest touch would set him off. His body was wound too tightly to make this last.

He sank down carefully on Anders' erection, and felt the slight burn as the hard length pushed its way inside. It seemed to take forever, and when Anders was imbedded to the hilt, Fenris began to move.

Anders held Fenris by the hips, his eyes taking in every detail of the elf. From the way his lips parted in pleasure, to the play of muscles that tensed and shook towards orgasm. His hips moved in a languid, torturous dance. With his head thrown back and his cock straining, Anders didn't think he had ever seen a more erotic sight.

But that was before Fenris began to speak.

"Fuck me, Anders," Fenris moaned. His hands caressed his own neck and chest, pinching at his nipples. "Fuck me."

The bed creaked under them as Anders' hands on his hips urged him on. He raised and lowered the elf on his cock, impaling him over and over. Anders bent his knees and braced his heels on the bed. He rolled his hips, slamming into Fenris each time he pulled the elf down.

The lewd slap of skin on skin filled the air, along with their cries of pleasure. Fenris reached behind him and held onto Anders' thighs, giving him better leverage as he jerked his hips. His cock waved neglected in the air, the tip shiny and wet from his excitement.

Anders curled the tips of his fingers so that they brushed where his cock disappeared into the elf. With his teeth on his lower lip, Anders sent magic into him. Fenris gave a shout, his body slamming down one last time and shuddered. His cock jerked, sending semen flying and splattering on Anders' stomach and chest.

"Oh, shit," Anders growled between clenched teeth. "I'm going to come. I'm going to—" He bit off the last part with a strangled cry, pulling Fenris down hard as he rode out his climax, his hips snapping.

Fenris slumped down on top of Anders, pressing kisses to his neck. "I love you."

Wrapping his arms tightly around the elf, Anders closed his eyes, a contented smile on his face. "No matter what happens, I won't leave you," he promised. "Pounce won't either. He likes you." He felt more than saw Fenris roll his eyes.


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: I had this finished yesterday, but FFN broke for me and I couldn't log in. Another chapter will be posted later on tonight.

This story is about to wrap up, but I will continue on almost immediately afterwards in the sequel. I won't start a new fic, but add onto this one to make it easier to read.

Shadowfox13: One of your plot bunnies stuck a few days ago so the beginning part is due to you. ^_^

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><p>"Where are they going?" Fenris leaned against a wall in the courtyard and watched Aedan with three other wardens. All of them were suited in full armor and laden with heavy packs. The sun was setting above him and he and Anders had just recently exited their room. They had spent the better part of the day in bed together. They had separated in front of the dining hall so Anders could eat and find Varric, and Fenris could seek out Aedan.<p>

They had decided that the sooner they spoke to Aedan the better. The Warden-Commander had heard the same things that Fenris had from Danarius. He would figure things out if he hadn't already. But when Fenris went to Aedan's office, he had found it empty.

"I was under the impression that Aedan no longer ventured into the Deep Roads," he said to Zevran, who had taken up a similar stance against the wall.

Zevran frowned, his eyes tracking Aedan as he and the other wardens entered the keep. "He does but rarely. He goes on occasion to meet the Architect and to escort certain wardens a small way into the Deep Roads."

"And you do not go with him?" Fenris was surprised. Zevran was so protective of Aedan, that it was astonishing that the other elf was letting him venture into danger alone. He stifled the fissure of fear that raced up his spine. If Aedan was going to see the Architect, then he might already be too late.

Sighing, Zevran shrugged. "He does not wish it in this case, he never does. He escorts those that hear the Calling tonight. He sees it as his duty to send his men off one last time—alone. A little macabre, no? When he returns he will be morose and wish to drink alone in his office. I will wait approximately one hour for him to brood, before I pry the bottle from his hands and lead him into the bedroom. I allow him his way for a time, before the fun of my way. The next morning it will be as if he had not sent off some of his own to certain death." He looked at Fenris out of the corner of his eyes and elegantly arched an eyebrow. "Until it happens again."

"How often?" Fenris found himself asking. He hated the thought of the Calling. He had done the math—he may not read or write with any real proficiency, but he could add and subtract- and knew it meant that one day in as little as ten years or as many as twenty, Anders was going to have to venture into the Deep Roads, drawn there by the blood he had ingested during the Joining. He would go and leave Fenris behind to wait his turn to join his lover in death.

"Often enough. Most are older wardens who have been assigned here from elsewhere. Sometimes months go by with nothing. Sometimes it happens a few times a week. There are signs—Aedan asks that any warden whose dreams start to change come to him immediately. But sometimes they are in denial and do not come until it is almost too late to prepare." Zevran pushed away from the wall and stretched his lithe body, with his arms over his head and his back arching.

It occurred to Fenris that Zevran would one day have to face the same thing. For reasons unknown to him, the assassin had never been made a warden. Aedan had only been a warden for about a year longer than Anders. He too would only have at most twenty years left before he would have to make the trip into the Deep Roads. Only, who would accompany him to send him off on his last journey?

"I have heard that the Architect may have a way to stop the Calling," Fenris said carefully.

Zevran slowly lowered his arms and gave Fenris a considering look. "Did you? Velanna has been telling tales." He held up his hand to forestall any objections. "I know it was her. She should not have said anything."

"But if it could help," Fenris began.

"Ah, but if it cannot... Rumors like that could become dangerous to those that are desperate. It gives false hope." Zevran spread his hands helplessly. "I do not pretend to understand all that the Architect does, magic is not my specialty." He gave Fenris a small, lewd grin, telling him without words just what his specialty was. "But I do know that for some wardens, such false hope of surviving to an old age will only lead to disappointment. Especially for those that do not wish to see loved ones die alone." He gave Fenris a significant glance and he looked away, unable to meet Zevran's knowing gaze.

"I would have thought you would be joyous knowing there was a chance that Aedan would not have to leave you one day," Fenris said quietly. He crossed his arms and tapped his fingers along his bicep.

"One would think that. But my warden will not be leaving me." Zevran looked off into the distance, his gaze turning inward. "When the day comes that his dreams become too much, I will go with him to his final battle. We will drown the Deep Roads in darkspawn blood before the hordes take us down. It is a good way to die." He turned back towards Fenris, a humorous glint in his eyes. "And I would know all about bad ways to die. Some of them are quite degrading. Would you like to hear about them?"

Fenris ignored the question, because he knew the other elf had asked only to change the subject. Despite Zevran's nonchalant attitude, Fenris could detect the hint of sorrow underlining his words. The Calling was a subject that he and Anders had never broached. Neither one of them wanted to have that final period added to the sentence that was their relationship. But it had never occurred to Fenris that he could just go with Anders, just as Zevran would travel with Aedan.

But the moment the idea had taken root in his mind, it withered and died. Anders would not allow it. The mage would not want to see Fenris die before his time, no matter that Anders' passing would leave Fenris alone.

He was broken out of his thoughts when Zevran clapped a hand on his shoulder and gestured with a flourish towards the keep. "Shall we go in? I hear your dwarf friend is starting a card game tonight. I for one am looking forward to seeing him fleece the others."

Fenris nodded and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. His hair was becoming too long; he would need to cut it soon. Anders had begged him not to touch it. Once the image of Fenris with longer hair had taken hold, the mage hadn't been able to let it go, no matter that Fenris told him it was a hindrance in battle.

He followed Zevran and the other elf called over his shoulder. "You are a warden now. The only certainty is that you will die killing darkspawn in one way or another. Do not forget that."

Fenris wouldn't—couldn't—forget it. But that didn't mean he had to accept it.

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><p>"Four whores in the brothel," Varric said, spreading his cards on the table. The others groaned and Varric swept his winnings towards the growing pile of gold in front of him. Howe gathered the cards and shuffled them, grumbling under his breath. Varric smirked into his tankard of Devlin's best, his eyes skipping around the table to land on the one person he had been avoiding looking at all evening.<p>

The things that the Desire demon had whispered into his mind still clung with barbed tendrils sunk deep. She had murmured to him about Bianca and all that he could have if he just let her in. He had never been more tempted by a demon before, and he had encountered his fair share with Hawke.

Dwarves did not have the connection to the Fade that the other inhabitants of Thedas had, but that did not mean that they were immune to what a demon could do to them. It did not mean that a Desire demon couldn't find a dwarf in a moment of weak remembrance, and latch onto it like a lyrium addict finding an open door in a Chantry storehouse.

His eyes flickered over to Sigrun and moved away before she could notice. He set his tankard down and picked up the cards Howe dealt, rearranging them with his mind only on half of what was in his hands. Isabela had once asked him who Bianca was, and he had been able to deftly change the subject. He _never_ talked about her to anyone. The only one left alive who knew was Bartrand, and no one believed the ramblings that came out of _his_ mouth these days. But the moment he had seen Sigrun he knew that there was someone who knew what had happened to her.

"_That's funny. I knew someone named Bianca once. She was in the Legion of the Dead. Great warrior. She went down fighting. I still miss her sometimes."_

She had been so earnest talking about Bianca and the way she had died, that she had missed the way Varric's face had paled. It had taken all of his willpower to smile and nod, while inside he lost what little hope he had been carrying all these years.

In truth he had mourned and buried Bianca long ago. He had named his crossbow in honor of her to rankle his father, the man who had set her up for disgrace, and forcing her to join the legion in order to clear her family's name. He had never forgiven his father for that; their relationship had been irrevocably broken that day.

The small hope that she still lived-that tiny flame he had nurtured—died when Sigrun had opened her mouth, her words snuffing it out and leaving nothing behind.

"Varric?" His eyes jerked up to see that Sigrun was talking to him. "Your turn." She really was beautiful, Varric thought. Even with the inked lines of a skull superimposed on her face, he could see she was pretty. He had never seen Bianca with her own tattoo that marked her as one of the legion. He had last seen her in Kirkwall, hurling accusations at his father.

She gave him a questioning look and he realized he was staring. "Are you all right?"

"Course he aint," Oghren groused. "You ever see a beardless dwarf that was all right in the head? Bet he's drank too much. Surfacers can't hold their liquor."

Glad for the chance to regain his mental equilibrium, Varric smiled and glanced down at the cards in his hands. "You, good ser, are a testament to all that is Orzammar." He threw down a templar card and Anders tossed his own cards down on the table, throwing up his hands.

"I'm out." He glanced back at the doors leading to the dining hall. He'd been doing it so much that Varric wondered if his head was going to snap off his neck.

"But I wonder," Varric continued and scooped up the lady that Velanna had discarded. "How long have you been a warden now? A few years? There are some—not me by the way—who think the moment a dwarf steps on the surface he's lost. That he's become," There was a pregnant pause, and he could just feel everyone at the table holding their breath. In telling a tale one had to know how to hold one's audience. He let the tension grow as he nonchalantly rearranged his cards once more. When he had felt enough time had passed, when everyone was leaning towards him in anticipation, he continued on.

"A surfacer."

Oghren sputterd into his ale, spraying foam into his beard as the rest of the table laughed. He looked up and caught Sigrun's laughing eyes as he spread his cards on the table. "Good queen and three templars in the castle. Wicked Grace."

This time, while everyone else groaned as Varric took their money, Sigrun only gave him a mysterious smile.

* * *

><p>Where was Fenris? Anders had left the game, deciding that it was best to walk away before Varric made himself any richer off what little the mage had. He took the steps leading down to the dungeon two at a time, betting that the elf went to have his talk with Varania without Anders.<p>

Of course, seeing as how all the bets he made tonight were bound to lose, Fenris was nowhere to be seen.

"I know you." Varania stood from the pile of fresh straw she had been given as her only means of comfort. "You prevented Leto from killing me."

Not for the first time, Anders was a bit startled by her appearance. Her hair was such a vivid red, that Anders had a hard time picturing Fenris with such a color. It was her eyes that drew him in the most, the same shade of mossy green that Anders woke up to every morning. It was those eyes that made it hard for Anders to want her death. Knowing those eyes—so like his lover's—would glaze over as the templars took her head or made her Tranquil, propelled Anders to want to seek a better way.

"His name is Fenris." Anders knew he shouldn't be talking to her, not like this. But like most things in his life, what was best and what he did was not always the same thing.

"That is the name Danarius gave him, that's not my Leto." She walked over to the bars and wrapped her fingers around them.

"Your Leto? Do you mean the one who you let sacrifice himself so that you could gain your freedom? That Leto?" Okay, so he didn't want her dead, that didn't mean he had to like her. "The one who you betrayed so you could become a blood mage?"

Varania's face went ashen. "You don't know what it's like. You're a mage, you've had training. I had no one to teach me the things I needed to know."

The bridge of her nose wrinkled as she scowled. Anders had seen enough of that look to know that it was a family trait. "So to get training all you had to do was betray your brother and slaughter a group of people? Which by the way, was really disgusting. Your interior design skills are horrible." He tapped his finger to his lip. "Did I say horrible? I meant sickening-literally. I vomited when I saw it."

"And what would you have had me do?" she asked him. "He would have killed me."

"You should have died then!" Anders shouted. "You should have fought, ran, done… something. Those people…"

A tear rolled down Varania's dirt stained cheek, cleansing a small path. "I did not help him. I could not. But I could not stop him either. I… I only wanted something better. I-" Her eyes grew wide and she took a step back from the bars. She flung out a hand and smacked it against the rugged stone wall next to her.

"What are…" Anders drew in a sharp breath as he watched her scrape her palm across the stone and wince. She thrust out her blood stained hand towards him.

"Behind you!" she cried.

Anders turned just in time to see the club coming towards his face. He jerked back, but not quick enough as it slammed into his head. Everything went white around the edges of his vision and he fell to the ground. He could smell blood in the air and hear Varania shouting, screaming for him to get up and run.

Darkness encroached on the white and he could feel blood trickling down his face. He rolled his eyes upwards and three darkspawn stared back at him, their eyes shining with an intelligence he knew all too well. It was something he had never wanted to see again.

His arms were jerked and he weakly fought back, the blow to the head making him dizzy and disoriented. He felt the pull from the Fade and heard Varania casting as the bars to her cell squealed in protest.

"Get away from me," he heard her scream. His eyes felt heavy and he knew he was losing his grip on consciousness.

"Leave her alone," he croaked. Or he thought he did as the darkness won out and he knew nothing more.


	29. Chapter 29

Thanks to everyone for reading!

Untitled Dragon: Glad you're back and caught up!

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><p>Anders opened his eyes and blinked. His head was throbbing, and he felt like he'd engaged in a drinking contest with Oghren—and lost. He groaned and moved his hand to rub at his pounding head. His arm jerked to a halt and he lifted his head to glance at it.<p>

He was strapped down…

…naked on a table…

…in the Deep Roads.

"This is depressingly familiar." Anders dropped his head back down, and cursed when the jolt reverberated through his skull. Along with the headache, he could feel darkspawn scrambling about in his head. His eyes grew wide at the amount that was in the vicinity. The Architect had been busy these past few years.

Very busy, if the chamber he was currently in was any indication.

The chamber was large and the stone ceiling looked new. Fresh chisel marks could be seen, smoothing the stone until it was almost blemish free. The smell of damp and rot that normally permeated the Deep Roads was only an underlying note in the air.

"This is more than depressingly familiar," said a voice next to him. Anders turned his head and cursed again when he saw who was lying next to him, bound as he was to a second table.

"I should have killed him the first time," Aedan said. He was nude as well and Anders felt an inappropriate flush creep up his face to heat his ears. Scars old and fading crisscrossed amongst newer ones along the side Anders was facing. Hair as dark as the strands on his head, spread over a wide chest and thickly muscled arms. Aedan was a large man, and not an inch of it was fat.

Aedan lifted his head as far as he was able, straining against the leather straps. "You hear me you asshole!" he shouted. "Show yourself you fucking coward!" His challenge sounded dull in the chamber, the tone falling flat. There was so much earth above them, that nothing echoed the way it should.

Aedan glared at the only entrance to the chamber, his muscles tensed in anticipation. The leather straps around his wrists creaked as he clenched and unclenched his fist rhythmically, as if he could feel a sword hilt in his palm. "Come on!" he called again. "You killed some good men to get to me tonight and you don't even bother to greet me?"

"I did not do such a thing." The Architect swept into the room and a chill went down Anders spine. He would never get use to seeing the darkspawn and the intelligence shining out his eyes. He had always felt that if the Architect was the new evolution of the darkspawn, then the wardens—the whole of Thedas—was in terrible danger. When the darkspawn were mindless-their only driving goal to find the Old Gods-they were dangerous enough, but when they could think for themselves…

"So it was other talking darkspawn that killed the wardens I was with?" Aedan's eyes narrowed as the Architect drew closer. "My mistake."

"I'm afraid you have the right of it. I did not expect you to venture into the Deep Roads after you canceled your request for a meeting. If I had, I would have tried to stop you." The darkspawn stopped to stand between the two tables. Whatever the Architect was, he was dangerous and could never be trusted. Anders didn't know what deals Aedan had made with him over the years, but it couldn't be worth what was happening now.

"Varania." The sounds of her screams echoed in Anders ears. "Where is she?"

When those cold, calculating eyes turned his way, Anders fought to not flinch. "She has not been harmed. Utha and Seranni are with her now."

"Oh, great," Anders muttered. "Leave her with the ghouls." Aedan shot him a look and Anders snapped his mouth shut.

"And why would you have tried to stop me?" Aedan drew the Architect's attention back to him. "I would really love to know."

The Architect folded his hands together and slipped them into the sleeves of his robes. "I am no longer master of this domain. Another has usurped my place here and seeks to use me for his own gains. It has become too dangerous. He is the one that sent the darkspawn upon you and had them bring you here."

"Too dangerous." Anders was incredulous. "Don't you mean _more_ dangerous? This is the Deep Roads you're talking about."

"Anders!" Aedan hissed. "Shut it—now."

'Ser, yes, ser." Anders really couldn't help himself. There was something truly wrong with him that he had such a disconnect between his mind and his mouth. They moved independently of each other at the worst times. When he and Justice had been together, he'd had a constant presence in his mind that had a front row seat to all the things Anders wanted to say-and did say. His running commentary had become more internal. But with Justice gone, words that should be held back just slipped passed his lips.

He was surprised Fenris hadn't strangled him in his sleep yet.

Aedan ignored him and drew the Architect's focus back. "Someone else has control of the darkspawn?"

The Architect inclined his head in assent. "Yes, a being who calls himself Corypheus. He currently inhabits the body of a warden turned ghoul. He came to me two weeks ago, seeking help in understanding this world. I am under the impression he had been imprisoned for some time, and only recently had been released. I know not the details, for he has not shared them with me. For a time, he and I exchanged information. He seemed interested in my work."

"A little too interested," Aedan surmised.

"Just so. He is old, very old. His memories before his imprisonment are of so long ago, that at times I did not know of what he spoke of. He is also very cunning. He has Utha and Seranni in a cell. He will not let them go until the work I do for him is done. I cannot leave for he has set guards at all the exits. I have been trapped here for days now."

"So why bring us here, then? Why not kill us?" Aedan had hit upon the very questions that Anders wanted answered. He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from adding his own voice.

"I believe he seeks to create an army of darkspawn that are independent from the pull of the Old Gods. He has commanded me to start work, and so far I have been able to stall him."

"And you need warden blood." Aedan finally dropped his head back against the table, and Anders wondered how he had been able to hold it up for so long. Right… Muscles…

"Release us, and I'll kill him for you. Problem solved." Aedan jiggled his arm, pulling it against the strap.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow you to kill him. He is-as I said-very old. His knowledge of the darkspawn is unparalleled. If I could wrest control back, I will be able to learn so much from him to aid me in freeing my brethren." The Architect sounded contrite, but one had only to look in his eyes to see the cunning underlying his words.

"You want to work with him. Sounds to me like your have divergent goals. If he seeks to build an army of his own…" A muscle in Aedan's jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth, biting off the rest of what he was going to say.

"I feel that I can make him see reason. After all, I made you see it." The Architect's lips curled in a parody of a smile.

"That's different and you know it," Aedan shot back. "I think some of your work has merit. I come to give you my blood as we agreed, and in return your darkspawn keep some of the Deep Roads clear, and you don't go looking for anymore Old Gods."

Anders sucked in a quick, shocked breath. "What? Is that why you let him live? You…" Anders floundered for words.

Aedan spoke to him, but didn't take his eyes off the darkspawn. "How do you think the expedition you went on was able to get so deep with little darkspawn interference? The lot of you would have been overrun the moment you stepped near it if I hadn't. This agreement has saved a lot of lives."

"Well thank you for that," Anders quipped. "Seriously, thank you. Allowing us to get into that thaig really made life better for everyone in Kirkwall, and had no unintended consequences. I mean, if we had run into too many darkspawn, we might have had to actually turn back." Anders blew out a deep breath and closed his eyes. Aedan never realized what kind of person he was. His slightest actions always seemed to have a ripple effect. People like that were larger than life and changed whole countries.

Or inadvertently collapse a system of slavery in a city.

"Sorry," Anders whispered. He opened his eyes to see Aedan give him a small nod.

"So," Aedan said, bringing them back to the matter at hand. "What do you plan to do with us then? I am expected back, and Anders will be missed if he hasn't been already. The wardens will come looking for us."

"That is up to you. I will only release you on the condition that you help me capture Corypheus. Once done, you both and the elven woman will be released." The Architect gave his ultimatum as if they had another choice. But as Anders eyed Aedan and the way his hand had resumed its clenching, he thought that maybe Aedan might be thinking of a another option.

"What if I just decide to kill you?" Aedan asked, giving voice to his thoughts.

"You have proven to be an honorable man. You will not once your word has been given." The darkspawn seemed so sure of his self, that Anders felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He knew the Architect was right.

So did Aedan if the note of resignation in his voice was any indication. "Fine. But I cannot guarantee his capture. If he is what you say, then I might be forced to kill him."

The Architect nodded his assent. "If he proves unable to listen to reason, then you must do as you see fit."

* * *

><p>"Darkspawn blood." Sigrun knelt down in the cell that had once been Varania's and touched her fingers to the dark pool on the floor. "Someone gave as good as they got before they were taken." She wrinkled her nose and wiped her hand in the straw piled in the corner. The door to the cell had been wrenched open and it hung crookedly off of one hinge.<p>

She pointed to the blood in front of the cell. "Someone bled a lot. I don't know if it was Varania or…" She chewed on her lower lip and shot Fenris a concerned glance.

"Or if it was Anders." Fenris was pacing the dungeon, his eyes flickering over and over to the blood on the floor. "It's been hours. He is not in the keep and he would not have left without informing me. If darkspawn were here, there can be only one conclusion."

Zevran flipped a dagger into the air. It whirled point over end before he caught it by the hilt and did it again. "The darkspawn would have had to pass Aedan on the way in. I do not like that they were able to get this far."

"Can't you wardens sense them coming?" Varric asked. He glanced from one person to another.

"It depends," Velanna replied. "If they were quick enough, they could have been in and out before we noticed."

"Found them." Nate and Oghren came up the stairs that led further into the keep and the entrance to the Deep Roads. "All four of the wardens set to guard the entrance are dead." Nate stroked the little bit of facial hair just under his lip. "There are two dead darkspawn with them."

Nate and Zevran exchanged a concerned look. "Aedan would not have let them by," the elf said. "He would have tried to stop them."

The others looked to Nate. With Aedan gone, he was in command. "All right. We need to find out what happened. We meet back here in fifteen minutes. I can't go, but I will make sure you have enough wardens to make the Architect think twice about pulling a stunt like this again."

"I'm going as well." Varric hefted Bianca.

"No." Nate shook his head. "You're not a warden. The chance that you might contract the taint is too high, unless you want to attempt the Joining before you go." He glanced over at Zevran. "That goes for you too. Aedan would never forgive me if you became tainted. You know that's why he doesn't let you down there with him."

"I would like to see you stop me." Zevran sheathed his dagger and placed his hand on the hilt."If my warden is in danger then I go to save him, yes? Or if he is dead, then I go to find those responsible. Aedan would expect no less."

"Why are we discussing this? We are wasting time," Fenris snarled. He turned and strode towards the stairs, taking them two at a time to retrieve his sword and armor. The look on his face must have been frightening. Wardens that roamed the halls stepped out of his path as he made his way towards the armory.

There was no time to quibble over armor that was not made to his specifications the way he had the last time he was here. Had that really only been two days ago? If the Architect was behind Anders' disappearance, he could not have picked a more perfect time. They were still weak and tired from the fight at the Three Corners.

Fenris grabbed the same type of armor he had worn during the confrontation with Danarius. Only this time, the blacksmith was not present to make any sort of last minute modifications. Fenris slipped on a pair of leather boots that reached his knees. Steel was riveted to the leather, protecting his shins. He let a chainmail shirt settle over his chest before slipping on the tabard of the Grey Wardens. Lastly, he pulled on his gauntlets, giving a quick kiss to the string tied to his wrist before he did. He ignored the wall lined with steel chest plates. He had felt too top heavy with it on. It had given him more protection, but with the way Fenris fought, he needed his speed. He grabbed his sword-newly cleaned and honed to a sharp edge-off the wall and ran out of the room.

It never occurred to Fenris that Anders had left the keep of his own volition. Maybe when he had been host to the demon, but not now. Their promises to each other to run if Aedan told Weisshaupt about him, had only just been made. The mage did not say such things lightly, no matter how many other things he took less seriously.

If the darkspawn had him—if he had hurt Anders in anyway—then Maker help him.


	30. Chapter 30

Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone!

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><p>Anders was not staring at Aedan's well shaped backside. Nope. He wasn't looking at the way those taut muscles moved and flexed under his skin as he pulled on his clothes. Not. At. All. That would be inappropriate and wrong-so very, <em>very<em> wrong.

"If you keep staring at me like I'll be forced to tell Zev." Aedan turned around and laced up his pants. He arched an eyebrow at Anders when the mage followed the thick trail of hair all the way down from Aedan's chest to where it tapered and disappeared into the waistband of his pants. He snagged his tunic off the pile of clothes and armor spilling out over the table he had been strapped to. "You don't want that."

"Um…" Anders sat on the edge of his table and pulled on his boots.

" He'll either kill you or try to lure you into our bed. Neither one of those is an option for me." Aedan began the tedious task of getting his armor back on. It took years of practice in order to lift and position the heavy pieces without help-even then it was a challenge. He was able to pull most of it on without assistance, except for his gauntlets. He held out his arm and gave Anders a questioning look. "A little help here?"

Anders was still trying to process the idea that Zevran would try to get him into bed with him and Aedan. He blinked rapidly to clear the image from his mind and hopped down from the table. "Is that a regular occurrence?" he asked despite himself. He helped Aedan slip on one gauntlet and did the straps that would secure it for him.

"No." Aedan didn't need Anders to clarify. "He wouldn't mean it. At least, I don't think he would."

"You don't know?" Anders reached for any topic that didn't have to do with what they were about to face. It was something older than the Architect and more powerful. Their odds were… not good. They had discussed freeing Varania first-they could use another mage-but Anders was against it. He didn't know the extent of her training, and adding blood magic into the mix might not be a good idea.

"Nope." Aedan didn't elaborate as Anders helped him into the other gauntlet.

"Why haven't you made him a warden yet?" Anders stepped back as Aedan unsheathed his sword and eyed it down its length. Anders had wondered about that when he had returned to Vigil's Keep and found that Zevran still had not attempted the Joining after all these years.

"No point." Aedan flipped his sword over and checked the other side. "Why should I risk him on the Joining? He does enough for the wardens without it." A bitter smile twisted his lips. "Too much at times."

"He does it for you," Anders pointed out.

"I know. But when he comes to me after being gone for days-smelling of expensive perfume-only to hear about the death of a women that was plotting to incite the other arls against me, I have to wonder if it's worth it." Aedan didn't bother sheathing his sword and hefted his shield. He stomped a few times to make sure his boots were on tight and nodded to himself in satisfaction.

Anders didn't know what to say to that. What could one say? He knew what he would do if Fenris came to him smelling of another. Being so blasé about it was _not_ it. He wondered if the others knew-as they had known that Zevran was looking out for Aedan's interests in his own way all this time. He didn't think so. Something like that was just too private. A pit opened up in Anders' gut that Aedan would chose to share something like that with him of all people-at this of all times.

"You don't think we can do this, do you?" Anders asked him, afraid of the answer.

"Nope. We don't stand a chance. But I figure we just start killing until this Corypheus is dead-or we are."

Anders dropped his face in his hands. "That's not very reassuring," he muttered into his palms. Anders was startled as Aedan clapped a steel encased hand on his back, sending the mage stumbling forward.

"Cheer up. You haven't even heard the rest of the plan yet." Anders looked up to see Aedan giving him a cocksure grin. It was times like this that Anders thought he could see the young man who became a warden and gathered an army to fight an Archdemon.

"Don't tell me. We rush out here and kill everything that tries to stop us. I heal-you do the hacking and the slashing." Anders reached behind him and pulled his staff free, his fingers clasping well worn grooves in the wood.

"Close. First we free the blood mage." Aedan moved towards the exit and peeked around the corner into what passed for a hallway.

"Great. Best plan ever, Aedan. I feel my odds of surviving going up with every word," Anders sighed as he followed. "Aren't you a noble? Didn't you learn tactics at all?"

Aedan stepped out into the hall, and his eyes swept the dark corners not lit by flickering torches. "That was for my brother. Second sons don't need to learn shit, except for how to pick a good whore and who to flatter. Maybe-if you showed proficiency-to look good in the lists and win tournaments. I wasn't expected to do much."

The hallway was built the same as the chamber they had been held in. Fresh chisel marks denoted new construction and an attempt at order. Anders didn't know if it was the Architect that had done it, or Corypheus. Neither one was a comforting answer. Darkspawn didn't build, not in a way that meant home or permanence. They created shelters, but not something crafted from stone.

"I do not like all this opening up before battle, Aedan. It implies that we might not live so you want to tell me your life story." Anders readied a spell. His hands glowed a bright blue and the air around him cooled. Pulling from the Fade felt different without the added power of Justice behind it. He had noticed that his spells had diminished since the spirit had left him.

They had gone some ways down the hall before Aedan abruptly stopped. He tilted his head to the side, and his eyebrows drew down in concentration. Anders copied his movements in an attempt to hear what Aedan was listening for. Since Aedan had joined during a blight, the man could sense darkspawn sooner than most. Anders had learned very quickly that when he got that look on his face, you better stop and listen.

"Do you feel that?" Aedan turned his head towards Anders.

"I don't feel anything different than what I have been feeling since we woke up." Anders shrugged.

"That's just it. I can feel them all around us. But," he pointed with his sword to the stone beneath them, "There's something different, just there." Aedan gasped and flung out a hand to steady his self on the wall. Anders reached for him, taking the few steps needed to come to his side.

It was close enough.

The voice that thundered through his mind hit him harder than anything Justice had ever done. Anders cried out and clutched at his head, dropping his staff to clatter on the floor. The voice hammered into his psyche. It felt like his skull was being cracked open and all his thoughts, all that he was were leaking out from the split.

His eyes rolled in his head and he dropped to his hands and knees. Dimly he was aware of Aedan fighting to stay upright, his lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl.

This was what the Architect was afraid of. Corypheus bore his way through Anders' mind, using the path that the Joining had created. The voice did not use words so much as a compulsion. Anders fought the being that invaded his mind. He fought against the compulsion to give up and submit to a greater presence.

If he could do this to anyone with a hint of the taint in their blood, then the wardens were all in terrible danger. The spell on his hands winked out, and he stumbled to his feet. How could they hope to even begin to fight something that could do this to them?

He grasped Aedan by his arm and pulled on him, urging him forward. With each step the two took, the compulsion grew more intense until Anders had a difficult time hearing his own thoughts. He heard an enraged scream and he wasn't sure if it had been him or Aedan. Each second seemed like an eternity as they moved down the hall. Anders had wondered that there were no guards placed on them, now he knew why.

But still they pressed on, until suddenly the voice stopped. The relief was so great that they both fell to their knees, Aedan with a clang when he hit the ground. Sweat trickled down Anders' face as he knelt, his breath wheezing in and out of his lungs.

"Aedan," he choked out.

The commander rose to his feet and weaved before regaining his balance. "No way are we letting that thing live," Aedan growled. "No fucking way." For someone clad almost entirely in metal, Aedan could move quickly when he wished. He took off at a run towards the end of the hall, leaving Anders to scramble to his feet and follow in his wake.

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><p>If there was one warden who Fenris did not want with them, it was Christopher. He eyed the healer as their group ventured further into the Deep Roads. With Anders gone, Nate had insisted that they take a healer with them. Christopher was the next best qualified, one of Anders' star pupils.<p>

_I just bet he is_, Fenris thought darkly.

In all there were twenty wardens along with Fenris, Sigrun, Velanna and Oghren. Nate had roused the whole keep, all eighty-three of the wardens that currently resided there. Watches were organized and guards posted at the entrance to the Deep Roads. It happened so quickly and efficiently, that Fenris knew that the Warden-Commander had anticipated the day the Architect would betray them.

Varric had stayed behind to lend his aid to Nate. That he didn't take up Howe's offer to attempt the Joining didn't surprise Fenris. The dwarf would never permanently leave the little kingdom he had built for himself in Kirkwall. Not unless it was a very compelling reason. Becoming a Grey Warden was not one of them.

A man named Bethan took point with Fenris and Oghren. Beshan had accompanied Aedan several times to meet with the Architect, and he knew the way. The grizzled warden sported a thick graying beard that rivaled Oghren's. He spoke very little beyond what was needed as he led them down twisting and crumbling paths.

As they drew closer to what Beshan described as the Architect's territory, the decaying aspect of the Deep Roads gave way to smoother stone, free of the rubble that littered the rest of the caverns. Lichen did not grow here, or if it did, then it had been cleared away with the rest of the debris.

For the first time as a warden, Fenris felt the nudging in his mind of the darkspawn. It started as a small scratching, a questing touch, and then it grew into a clawing, searching feeling that made him feel unclean. He wasn't the only warden to notice it. All around him, wardens tightened up hands on their weapons. He felt the swift pull of the Fade through his brands, as more than one mage readied their spells. His markings flared to life as he took a small step into the Fade. Justice's warning rang in his ears, and he brushed off the memory. One half step into the Fade would not open the door. As long as he did not push the boundary, then there would be no reason for Justice to carry out his sentence.

Beshan held up his hand in a closed fist and the rest of the wardens immediately stopped their march. Although Velanna had been put in charge, the rest of the group deferred to Beshan and his more recent forays into this part of the Deep Roads. Fenris gave the man a questioning look as Beshan peered around the chamber they had entered.

"This isn't right. Usually the Architect has a few darkspawn here to act as envoys to those that enter his territory. There should be guards here as well. I don't kno—"

He was cut off as the first warden began to scream.

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><p>Anders and Aedan had slipped into yet another empty chamber. As they made their way to where the Architect had told them that Varania was being held, Anders became increasingly uneasy. That's not to say he wasn't <em>already<em> uneasy, but he had upgraded from terrified to just wanting to run for his life, screaming like a little girl.

Aedan wasn't helping.

"This is new." Aedan moved his eyes around the empty room. "There weren't this many chambers when I came here two months ago."

_Yes, Aedan_, Anders thought. _Please tell me more about how you don't know this place and how much it has changed. That really makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. _He had stopped saying as much to the warrior. It only earned him less than amused glares.

Anders could feel the strange presence the deeper into the Architect's lair they went. It felt like a large spot of darkness had taken up residence among the smaller ones that denoted darkspawn. He didn't know what it meant, only that with each step they took they were being brought closer to the looming darkness. Anders found himself searching out shadows as the feeling of eyes watching their every move grew.

They exited the chamber into a long hallway. A large set of intimidating stone doors sat at the end. An ogre could stand on another's head and still there would be clearance for the horns of the one on top. Ornate carvings swept in an intricate pattern up the doors. Despite what he told his feet, they drew him closer and he could just make out what they were.

"Maker," Aedan breathed. He snatched a torch off the wall and lifted it high. Flickering torchlight gave the carvings of entangled bodies-their mouths twisted in a rictus of terror-the appearance of writhing in agony. They both tilted their heads back, and their eyes scanned the macabre scene emblazoned in stone.

"Let me guess," Anders whispered. "This is also new." He felt like if he was too loud, the figures on the door would stop their eternal screaming and turn their horrified eyes on him.

Aedan's face was set in grim lines. "Never seen it before." He abruptly dropped the torch and swept his shield from his back when the doors creaked. A crack appeared in the center, splitting the scene apart and sending stone dust raining down on them. Anders covered his mouth with his sleeve and coughed as the dust choked him. He took a few steps back until he was behind Aedan and lifted his staff high. The spell on his hand shot up the wood, condensing into a tight ball at its tip.

Anders felt his hands shaking and the ball of his ice spell bobbed as it reverberated up his staff. The doors opened inwards, without any sign of a hand helping its path. Light spilled out, casting shadows into the hallway.

"Hold, Anders." Aedan slid one of his legs back, bracing himself as he held his shield up. Anders' boots had scuffed along the stones as he took a step back.

"We need to run, Aedan. We can't… I can't…" The trembling that had started in his hands had traveled up his body and seized his throat. "There are too many of them."

Before them, stood more snarling darkspawn than Anders had ever seen in one place. And in the center, standing with the Architect on a dais, was a man. Anders could see why the Architect thought that he was a warden. He looked like one. His craggy and scarred face told of many battles. Black lines, just under the surface of his skin, would normally have had Anders thinking he was a ghoul. But the cunning and malevolence that brightened his eyes showed that he was much more.

"If we run we won't make it," Aedan pronounced over his shoulder. "Better to die facing them head on than with a sword stuck into our backs."

Anders knew that Aedan was speaking the truth. If they ran, the horde would be upon them in seconds. There was nowhere to hide, no escape. The directions the Architect had given them to Varania had led them straight into Corypheus' arms.

Anders closed his eyes and tried to calm his rising panic. It only took the barest of moments, but his thoughts raced as if he had all the time in the world. He thought of his life in the Anderfels and the good memories he had of his mother. He thought of the times he had escaped the circle, his youthful brashness making it more of a game than the life or death chances he had been taking. He remembered Karl and the first time he had slept with a man. He recalled how Aedan had stood up for him against the templars, seeing something in Anders that the mage had never seen in himself.

_Seeing the joy on a free mage's face when they kissed the ground of the Kirkwall sewers. _

_Playing wicked grace at the Hanged Man._

_Hawke and her faith in him to keep her secrets._

_Fenris and his hand on Anders' heart._

_The first time Fenris had kissed him. The feeling of his lips and the questions behind them._

_Fenris' face full of abandonment and vulnerability as their bodies strained against each other for the first time._

_Those words that Anders had always wanted to hear, coming out of Fenris' mouth, in that smooth voice that Anders had always loved._

_Fenris…_

Anders sucked in a quick, shuddering breath. A tear tracked its way down his cheek and he blinked rapidly. Fenris would be alone. Would he realize that he had friends among the other wardens, or would he shut himself away?

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, and when his trembling ceased, Anders gave a nod of his head that Aedan couldn't see. "I'm ready."

Anders' cue was all Aedan needed. He let out a roar and clanged his sword against his shield. "Come on!" As one, the darkspawn roared back and rushed at the two wardens, spilling out of the door way like tainted blood from an open wound.

* * *

><p>AN: I debated on not posting this chapter until the following was finished, but decided to anyway. I know it's a hell of a cliffhanger, sorry about that. next chapter tomorrow!

Plots within plots, when two schemers meet is how I see Corypheus and the Architect.


	31. Chapter 31

Blood sprayed in Aedan's face as he pulled his sword free from the darkspawn before him. The body crumpled to a ground already littered with the corpses of its brethren. Black blood covered the commander from head to steel clad toes, and his eyes glinted grimly from a gruesome mask. The worry that Aedan might catch the taint might have been nullified by the Joining, but that didn't mean the fight was any less deadly. His armor was battered in places, rent from darkspawn weapons and an ogre's horns that had met his end when Aedan thrust his sword into the beast's heart. This was what Aedan was meant for. Not bureaucracy. Not ruling an arldom. But the feeling of when his steel met the flesh of his foe, and the hilt of his weapon in his hand. He had felt like this once before, fighting his way to the Archdemon. In that moment he had felt he had a purpose, a meaning in his life beyond the drudgery of a second son. In that moment, when the odds were so against him and the cause he fought for, he had found a peace that he hadn't known existed.

Anders was terrified.

He had long ago run out of his meager store of lyrium potions he always kept on hand. He had been in the keep, so there was no need to have more beyond what he might need in emergencies.

This was an emergency.

He and Aedan had stayed in the hallway, letting the darkspawn funnel to them. That had worked until the ogre had shown up, barreling its way through smaller darkspawn, and flinging them aside like bothersome ants. There had been nowhere to move to escape the charge, and Anders had to quickly construct a shield to prevent Aedan from being skewered on the ogre's horns. As it was, it had crashed into Aedan, slamming the man into the wall, cracking the stone surface. If Aedan hadn't lifted his sword in time and allow its own momentum to impale itself, then the warden would have been dead.

And still they kept coming.

Anders was reaching the limit of what he could do. In between healing Aedan and himself, he threw ice and fire from his staff in an attempt to slow the onslaught down. But his spells were flagging as his mana began to wane. With no more lyrium potions left, he had to draw from his own life force to keep going. It wouldn't be long now before either the darkspawn, or his own spells sapped him of his life.

He had always wondered what it would take to make him consider the desperate act of blood magic. This was it. A demon could help turn the tide, aiding them when they needed it most. The extra power that Justice had given him was only a taste of what Anders could literally have at his fingertips, if he only gave in and allowed a demon his body. As Anders threw another cone of ice at the darkspawn rushing for Aedan, and felt his body weakening further, he almost surrendered. He and Aedan would live, but at what cost? None of his friends would look at him the same, no matter how justified Anders might have been. And Fenris… Fenris did not fight to free him from Justice, only to see him capitulate to another demon. There would be no symbiotic relationship with anything Anders could deal with from the Fade. There would be no coexistence. There would only be domination and destruction, enough to make him long for the days of Justice and the spirit's lesser control. Anders would become an abomination in truth, and he didn't want to live if that was the life he was to have.

His time was done.

If there was no way out except forward, then Anders would do what needed to be done to make sure that Aedan was victorious. Aedan who would ensure that the Architect and Corypheus paid, and he was integral to the wardens of Ferelden. He would take care of Fenris for Anders. Because when you got down to it—even if he would never admit it—the elf needed someone to care enough to want to take care of him, despite his prickly demeanor.

He wouldn't let Fenris down by accepting demonic aid, but he wouldn't leave him completely alone either.

* * *

><p>The one person who was not a warden ended up being their saving grace. Zevran had been trailing along behind the wardens, and each one of them pretended like he wasn't there. No one spoke to him, or pointed him out. It was as if each one had decided on their own that when they got found Aedan, they wanted plausible deniability as to who knew that Zevran had come into the Deep Roads, when the Warden-Commander had expressly forbidden him from doing so.<p>

No one wanted to be at the other end of _that_ dressing down.

One by one, the wardens fell to their knees, clutching their heads as a presence filled their minds. It called to them, urging them to submit to the stronger will. Some of the wardens screamed and cried, while others gritted their teeth against the onslaught.

Zevran was the only one not affected.

In consequence, he was the only one able to react in time when darkspawn came pouring out of a tunnel. He slipped into the shadows, disappearing as easily as if he was never there. The first three darkspawn never made it to the wardens. They were dead before they even hit the ground, their throats slit almost to the spine. It gave a few of the wardens near the front enough time to stagger to their feet and enter into the fray. Some of the older wardens—Beshan included—were still in the voice's thrall, frozen into inaction by the compulsion to drop their weapons and seek out the one who spoke.

Fenris stumbled to his feet with the aid of his massive sword. He raised it in just enough time to block the attack of a darkspawn's sword. Steel rang against steel, and Fenris could smell the decay coming off the darkspawn in waves, the taint that corrupted even the very ground they walked on. Fenris' face twisted in a snarl and he dropped his weight, the darkspawn's sword sliding free and slamming to the ground. Fenris rolled away to the side and came up swinging, cleaving through the darkspawn's armor and shattering its shoulder bone to sever its arm.

An arrow zipped by his head, narrowly missing his ear. He turned in time to see a darkspawn archer loose another arrow. He wasn't quick enough and it punched through the Grey Warden tabard to entangle in his chainmail shirt. Ignoring the slight pain of the arrow tip just embedded in his skin, he pulled it free and charged after the archer, ducking the next arrow that came his way.

All around him, chaos had erupted. Spells from both sides lit up the cavern, and at any other time, it would have been beautiful the way the myriad colors flashed brightly against the stone, creating patterns on the rock. The compulsion was still there, but the will to live was stronger. If they did as the voice asked, they would all be slaughtered like docile sheep in the killing pens.

Some of them were.

It didn't escape Fenris' notice that Beshan had been one of the first to be cut down. He had dropped his weapon and stood inert with glazed eyes as his head was taken. All around him the older wardens were dying, passively allowing the darkspawn to kill them. In only moments, their numbers dipped a quarter less than what they had—and the darkspawn kept coming.

Fenris took a blow to his side that broke through the tight links of his armor and embedding metal into the wound. He almost lost his grip on his sword as he returned the favor, slashing at the darkspawn's hip until he hit bone. A healing wave washed over him, and for the barest of moments, he thought Anders had come. But it felt wrong, the pull on his brands foreign and unwelcome. He turned and saw Christopher with his back to a wall and wardens to his front. His hands and staff were raised as he sent healing spells into the crowd.

Fenris still hated him, but he had his uses.

They couldn't win this. The darkspawn had the advantage of numbers against weakened and unprepared wardens. Fenris stepped further into the Fade, his whole body shimmering with an incandescent light. Time seemed to slow as he moved quicker than the darkspawn could track around the battlefield, taking them down as he went.

And then everything stopped.

The compulsion vanished and the darkspawn lowered their weapons. No one gave the time to question it, taking the opportunity to slaughter the creatures where they stood, returning the favor. When the last one was down, Fenris stood panting among the dead-darkspawn and warden alike—drenched in blood. He snapped his wrist and flicked tainted blood off his sword as he glanced around.

All told their numbers where now down by half, and that counted those too wounded to continue on. Christopher was moving among them now, healing those that he could.

Oghren, of all people had been made head of the search party. When the dwarf wasn't drunk, he seemed to know a thing or two about darkspawn and leading a group. Velanna, Sigrun and Zevran were gathered around him as Christopher healed a gash on the dwarf's head. Fenris pulled out a piece of cloth from a pouch at his waist, and wiped down his sword before sheathing it and walking over to them.

"…just stopped," Velanna was saying, her eyes wide.

"Seems that way." Oghren waved Christopher off with an impatient huff. "I told ya I'm fine. Go do your healing thing on people that need it more." The young warden moved off and knelt down next to a woman who clutched blood tinged hands to her side.

"What changed?" Sigrun asked. "Something happened to make them stop like that. The voice in my head, it disappeared as well."

"Aedan?" Zevran was wiping at his face with a cloth he had wetted down from a water skin. Fenris fought more head on than the assassin, so what little blood Zevran had on his body was easily removed. Fenris would have to burn his clothes and scrub his skin raw to cleanse the gore saturating him.

"Maybe." Oghren grinned, showing them all the grizzly sight of blood stained teeth. "Cousland might have killed the Architect."

"My sister…" Velanna looked stricken.

Zevran handed Fenris his cloth and leaned over to whisper in his ear as he wiped off his face. "Her sister was tainted, but the Architect has her. She helps him on whatever he is currently working on. He did something to her. She is a ghoul, but she has her mind still."

Fenris was given no chance to reply when Sigrun spoke. "We should move on before they come back. I've seen what darkspawn do to people they capture. We all have."

"Yeah, but the warden is a man. Unless he plays the girl for you, elf. Then he might be in trouble." Oghren let out a whoosh of breath as Sigrun elbows him in the gut.

"Since you already smell so bad, I think they might take you instead." Sigrun snorted and laughed at the offended look on Oghren's face.

Fenris felt his heart clench painfully at their banter. Anders should be here, joining in with them. He knew they were just blowing off steam, but it hurt all the same. They were so sure Aedan was still alive, but not one word had been mentioned about Anders or his sister. Had they already given them up for dead?

Fenris was startled out of his thoughts when Zevran whispered in his ear. "If Aedan is alive, then Anders is as well. Aedan would not let one of his own die before him, not if he could help it." Fenris turned a startled look on the other elf. "Your face," he explained. "To those that know what to look for, you can be very expressive at times." He glanced down to where Fenris' finger swere tapping furiously on his thigh.

Growling softly in the back of his throat, he turned his back on Zevran and his too keen eyes, nodding towards the tunnel the darkspawn came out of. "We should stop wasting time."

Oghren hefted his axe. "Let's go. Anders' girlfriend is getting restless."

* * *

><p>When the darkspawn stopped coming, Anders wasn't sure if it was real or a delusion created by his weakened state. He leaned heavily against a wall, his head rolling on his shoulder. He was almost finished. He could feel how his heart slowed in his chest, the organ shuddering to pump blood through his body. His breath rasped in and out lungs that couldn't ever seem to draw enough air in them.<p>

Aedan wasn't in much better shape. He'd had to discard his breast plate when the second ogre came, caving the metal in and breaking a few ribs in the process. Blood dripped down his right side and back, his tunic slashed open to reveal angry, open wounds.

"Aedan…" Anders slid down the wall, his legs unable to support him anymore. "Why did they stop?" he turned his head to see the Architect and Corypheus having a heated argument. He couldn't make out what they said, but whatever it was, the Architect did not look nearly as pleased as Corypheus did.

"Don't know." Aedan was watching the argument avidly, his eyes narrowed. His voice was scratchy from all the screaming he had done in the heat of battle. "Remember when I said that we shouldn't run?"

"Yeah…"

"I've changed my mind. We need to go while they're distracted." Aedan had lost his shield and sword some time ago. He held a darkspawn sword in his hand, taking it from the body of the one that had shattered his own weapon. He backed up to where Anders was on the floor and held out his hand, his eyes on the chamber.

Anders had no sooner gotten to his feet when Corypheus called out to them, preventing any chance of them leaving without detection. "Are you leaving so soon?" Corypheus gestured with his arms wide. The darkspawn in the room parted, creating a path straight to him from the door.

"Why don't you come in?"

* * *

><p>AN: I had hopes of wrapping this up tonight, but as usual, the story had other ideas.


	32. Chapter 32

Thanks for reading everyone!

* * *

><p>"Now that is hideous." Only their core group of Fenris, the two dwarves, Velanna, Zevran and Christopher remained. A few of the wardens who could still fight where left with the wounded, while scouts went back to the keep to report and ask for reinforcements.<p>

This was a much larger problem than just a simple rescue mission.

They had ventured deeper into the tunnels. Without a guide, they were left with what a few of them could recall from their last visit to this area. No darkspawn greeted them. There was nothing here, just new construction.

"Well, you would know hideous," Sigrun said softly, her voice lacking any heat. All of them craned their necks upwards, examining a half finished statue standing guard over a doorway. Stone dust littered the floor, the imprints of boots stamped into it.

"It is supposed to be Dumat, the Dragon of Silence. It is said he taught the first of the Tevinter mages the art of blood magic. He was also the first Archdemon." Fenris looked at the statue in disdain. "See how there is no mouth. That was not by accident, the upper half is complete." Fenris had thought when he left Kirkwall he had finally seen the last of Tevinter statuary of the Old Gods. It seemed no matter where he went the Imperium's stamp on the world was all around him.

But this was new.

"You did not tell me that this Architect has connections to Tevinter." It also seemed that he could not escape the magisters, not even in the depths of the Deep Roads. They needed to find Anders. There was a chance that Anders and Varania's disappearance had nothing to do with what was happening in the Deep roads. If that was the case, then Fenris was wasting time, when he should be looking elsewhere for the mage.

"We don't know." Velanna held out her hands helplessly. "I don't think the Architect even knows."

"Who's the Architect?" Christopher asked. As one they all turned towards him in surprise. It was easy to forget that Christopher was young and spent all of his time in the infirmary. This was his first time in the Deep Roads, and although he had acquitted himself well so far, he was still very much untried.

They each looked at each other before Sigrun sighed. "I'll do it. He might as well know what he's gotten himself into."

"I know what I'm in for. I wasn't conscripted," Christopher boasted. As they moved through the doorway, she fell back to talk to the young warden in a low voice.

"You don't. You _really_ don't." In a soft voice, she began to tell Christopher the basics of what he needed to know. It was difficult at times; there was information that newer wardens were not to know yet. It was background noise to Fenris who had taken the lead with Oghren.

There was no need for a guide now. They entered into a series of chambers and hallways. There was only one path, as if it was designed to funnel to a single point. Most of the chambers were empty, only a few adorned with tables and chairs. Fenris didn't like it. It was a vacancy that only waited to be filled. It was as if the Architect was building in anticipation of all the darkspawn that would occupy it.

Behind him, Fenris could hear the occasional gasp of astonishment from Christopher. He hadn't bothered Anders since Fenris had warned him away. Or at least, not that Fenris had seen. He was still in the infirmary every afternoon, but Christopher never did anything in his sight again, keeping his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he listened to Anders' newest lesson.

It was in those instances, that Fenris could see the mage that Anders could have become. He was a natural teacher, his sense of humor and easy going manner had his students spell bound. He could have risen to First Enchanter, and been a gentling influence on whatever circle was lucky enough to have him.

At least, that was Fenris' very biased opinion.

Fenris decided he couldn't blame him for wanting Anders. When Fenris had first seen the mage, he had been struck by his rakish looks and the infectious grin on his face. He'd always wanted Anders-he could admit that to himself now. Looking back, he had been appalled that Anders was a mage, and used that as an excuse to prevent himself from feeling anything more than revulsion. But his eyes had seemed to stray to Anders of their own volition, and he found himself wondering inane things, like if the hair on the rest of his body was as golden as the hair on his head, or like the darker shadowing on his jaw. The single instance Fenris had taken another into his bed in Kirkwall, images of Anders had flashed in his head as he was cock deep in his partner.

That had not ended well.

He had been foolish to fight himself for as long as he had-foolish and blinded by his own bitterness. He hadn't fought pass his own prejudices, all of the Gallows, the taint and Danarius to lose Anders now. If the Architect did not have him, then there was nothing more keeping Fenris with the wardens. He would leave the moment Aedan was rescued, if Anders was not with him. He would search for Anders and to the Void with anyone who hindered him.

He stopped when Oghren did, the dwarf uttering an oath that would have done Isabela proud. Behind him, he heard the others do the same. "Feel that?" Oghren asked.

Fenris looked back to see Velanna and Sigrun nod. The elf closed his eyes and quieted his mind to feel what the others did. His eyes snapped open and he growled under his breath. "Straight ahead."

"Let me." Zevran pushed passed them his daggers clenched in his hands. He moved on silent feet and disappeared into the hallway. He was gone for only a moment, before he came darting back into the chamber.

"They're here, and they're in trouble."

* * *

><p>Anders had his arm slung over Aedan's shoulder and the larger man half carried, half dragged the mage into the room. On either side of them snarling darkspawn brandished fang and sword, hissing through their teeth. As the two men passed, they closed ranks behind them, cutting off any avenue of escape. Anders gagged from the smell. Too many darkspawn in one enclosed space was not conducive to the air around them. Now he knew why the chambers they had been in previously had not had the stench that darkspawn carried with them. They had all gathered here in this one room.<p>

Aedan stopped at the foot at the dais, and looked for the entire world like he wasn't holding up a half dead mage and wasn't close to that state himself. Instead, he raised his chin and straightened his spine, the torchlight catching the bruises that mottled his face and arms. "If you had wanted to talk you could have saved us the trouble and just done that from the start."

"But then I would not have known if you were worthy or not. You've shown a prowess that I have only seen twice in my lifetime." Corypheus' voice echoed in the chamber and Anders shuddered to hear it.

"Worthy?"

"Yes. I do not like this body that I currently inhabit. It is too limited. When the Hawke destroyed my original, I had very little choice as to where I could flee." Next to him, the Architect was watching the exchange avidly.

"A hawk?" Aedan's voice held the same note of incredulity that Anders was feeling. Corypheus was mad, he made no sense. Mad and very powerful if he could take control of so many darkspawn in so little time.

But the assertion of madness was swept away when Corypheus deign to explain himself. "A mage named Hawke came to my prison when I was about to finally be free and strengthened my bonds with his blood. It took my disciples many years to find a descendent to free me."

Anders sucked in a pained breath. "Marian… Aedan, he means Marian," he whispered furiously. His eyes blazed as he turned on Corypheus.

"What did you do to her?" Raising his voice caused his lungs to go into spasms and he bent almost double as a coughing fit wracked his body.

"Her?" Corypheus laughed. "It was not the female. It was the son that came to me. He brought an elven sorceress and a female warrior with him. They took advantage of my state and I was forced to flee my body."

Carver… It was Carver.

Anders opened his mouth, but Aedan spoke first. "Flee your body… You claim to be immortal?"

"I don't claim it. I am." He swept his arms wide, encompassing the whole room. "I am Corypheus, one of those that entered the Golden City and came out with knowledge that your minds could never comprehend. The Lord of Silence, Dumat, has whispered into my ear, and his secrets have been imparted unto me.

"I brought you here for I am in need of a man of strong will." His lips turned up in a cunning grin. "The one who calls himself the Architect insisted that you were such a man. You have been tested in battle and blood, but I find that I no longer need you for my original purpose." He dropped his arms and pointed at Aedan, his eyes alight with malevolence.

"Why make another Key when there is already one heading this way? I have felt its touch close by. I will take your body instead."

* * *

><p>There was no time to wait. No time for plans or tactics. In a move that indicated too much time spent around Aedan, they decided to burst into the room, their weapons drawn. But there was no need. The darkspawn parted when they entered, clearing a path for them to a dais in the center.<p>

Aedan had a sword in his hands raised high in a killing strike above the neck of what looked to be a male human almost turned ghoul. The ghoul had a triumphant grin on his face… and Anders' throat in his hands.

"Strike me down and end his suffering," the ghoul taunted. "Choose. Kill me and I will take your body, or allow him to die and save yourself."

"Anders!"With a thought, Fenris stepped partially into the Fade and rushed the dais, his sword swung back. He felt more than heard the others hurrying to catch up, calling his name in warning.

Anders rolled his terrified eyes towards Fenris. His vision was filled with dancing spots and he struggled to remain conscious. "Stop…" he croaked. "Stop him…" As much as he wanted to see Fenris, he wished that the elf had not found them. If what Corypheus said was true, then Fenris had just walked right into the one place in all of Thedas where he should not be. He had to stop Fenris before he reached them and killed Corypheus.

Heedless of the great sword in Fenris' hands, Aedan dropped his own and dove off the dais towards the elf. Fenris stopped himself just in time, his weapon slipping from his hands to clatter to the ground as Aedan's greater weight slammed into him. Air whooshed out of his lungs from the impact, and Aedan rolled taking the brunt of the landing on the unforgiving stone floor. The others scrambled for them, their hands lifting Fenris away and pulling them both to their feet.

"Corypheus… We can't kill him." Bent over, his hands on his knees, Aedan panted, his eyes boring into Corypheus. "It's like the Archdemon. It will just take over the nearest warden or darkspawn." He hissed in a pained breath as he felt gentle hands on his back, gingerly touching his wounds. The last voice he had expected to hear drifted in his ears.

"What have they done to you, my warden?"

Aedan straightened and whirled around, his eyes landing on Zevran. "What the fuck? Why are you here?"

Zevran's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "If you have to ask that, then I am not doing my job very well."

On the dais, Corypheus was laughing. The sound grated on Fenris, clawing over his skin. "You cannot kill me, but you may yet be given a chance to live. Give me the Key and I will let you all go." Next to him, the Architect remained a silent observer. Corypheus shook Anders like a rag doll and tossed him from the dais.

For someone who was so battered, Aedan was the one to catch Anders, falling once more to the ground. Fenris dropped to his knees and pulled Anders from Aedan's body, cradling the mage in his lap. Anders' skin was grey, and an obscene ring of deep bruising bloomed around his throat. His breath rasped in his lungs, rattling so loud that Fenris could hear it. Dark circles shadowed eyes that were barely opened.

Feral eyes turned on Aedan, and Fenris' face was twisted in rage. "Why did you stop me? Look at what he has done!" He jerked when Anders touched his face with a weak hand and turned him back.

"Can't kill him… He won't die. It was a trap…Architect…"

For the first time, the Architect spoke. "I am sorry, Aedan. I wanted to see if his assertions were true."

"Sorry?" Aedan wobbled on his feet, held up by Velanna and Zevran. "You're sorry? You said you wanted to free your kind, and yet you would help him?" He shook his head, anger coloring his words. "If I can't kill him, I will at least take your head. I'll mount it on the front gates of the keep and let it rot like it should have a long time ago."

"Aedan," Sigrun whispered. "What do we do? If we can't kill him…"

"I know!" Aedan sucked in a breath through his teeth, tempering his voice. "I know. I can't give him Fenris, though." It was then that Anders knew that Aedan had already figured out what Fenris could do. He had been with them in the Fade; he had been at the Three Corners with Fenris and heard all the same things the elf had.

He knew-and he hadn't said a word.

"Give me the Key and this will all go away." Corypheus' hungry eyes moved over Fenris. "I did not think to see another Key made. The one who did this must be very powerful. Give him to me."

"Just give him what he wants!" Christopher stood trembling, his eyes wild with fear. "If we can't kill him…"

"No!" Aedan turned the full force of his displeasure on the young healer. "We are wardens. We don't give up one of our own."

"But you do." Corypheus took a step down from the dais. The darkspawn nearest to him backed away, their heads bowed. "You give one up whenever an Old God rises. Curious, that you should live when so many of your own fell."

The voice was back in their minds, but now that they knew the source it seemed all the more repulsive. _Dumat gave me the secret of everlasting life. I will not die by going into a lesser being the way the Old Gods do. Give me the Key, or you shall suffer a thousand deaths._

Anders gave a weak, self deprecating laugh."Only… a thousand? Sounds… easy enough…"

And that's when Fenris knew.

As he looked down at his lover—at the way he could still joke-he knew he couldn't let Anders die. None of the wardens could kill Corypheus. He would just move on, inhabiting one of them or the many darkspawn in the room. A peace settled over Fenris as an idea took root. There was no other way. They were being given impossible choices. Die, or hand Fenris over and die still in the oncoming storm.

But Fenris knew of a third option that Corypheus-for all his cunning-did not see.

He touched Anders' cheek, brushing away the grim that had settled in the stubble along his jaw. He leaned down, curling his body over that of the mage. Breath hot in Anders' ear, he whispered softly, Fenris' lips brushing over his skin. "I love you. You have given me far more than I had ever thought possible. I'm a better person for having met you. You make me smile despite myself. The foolish things you say… I find myself missing them when you aren't there.

"I like that your mine. I like that the looks you give me are mine. The soft touches, the way your voice sounds when you're under me. I…" Fenris faltered. There were so many things he wanted to say to Anders. When the mage turned his startled eyes on Fenris, the elf kissed him.

Anders began to shake and he pulled away from the kiss and all of the meaning behind it. This was a Fenris that he so rarely got to see, and he was hearing words that Fenris would normally try to communicate through a desperate kiss, or a soft touch. A sense of doom settled over him, and his frantic hands pulled Fenris to him. "Don't—"

"I won't let you die. I can stop this, but I need you to be strong for me." Fenris could feel tears pricking the backs of his eyes and he blinked rapidly. He could not remember the last time he had cried. A tear fell, landing on Anders' cheek, and cleansing a small spot amidst the dirt. "If I give him what he wants, then I will _be in the Fade_."He stressed the last three words and knew Anders understood when horror filled his eyes.

Panic built in Anders and choked him more surely than Corypheus had, as it dawned on him just what Fenris meant. "Don't," he pleaded. "Don't do this."

The panic rose as Fenris turned towards Aedan."I'll go. I'll go into the Fade and take him with me. It's the only way."

"No. I'm not letting you do this," he snapped back. Christopher was bent over Aedan, his hands glowing with healing magic.

"You must. It is only _Justice_." Fenris saw it the moment Aedan and Zevran understood what he meant. The Warden-Commander's face settled into grim lines, his mouth twisting as he fought against the logic of what Fenris was saying.

Zevran lightly touched Aedan's shoulder, and his dour features settled into sorrow. "If you do this…" he began.

"If I do this then you will be let go. My sister-"

'"Is alive. Don't worry. I will take care of her," Aedan promised him.

Fenris felt Anders' hands clawing at him, dragging him down and forcing Fenris to face him. "No! No, no, no. You can't do this. You can't, not alone. I'll go with you. We can go together." Anders' voice came out in a hurried rush. "Please," he sobbed. "Don't leave me."

Fenris touched his wrist, where under his gauntlet lay a thin piece of string. "I won't be alone. I never was, but I was foolish enough not to see it." Anders began to cry great, wracking sobs, his whole body shuddering with the force of it. He screamed Fenris' name as the elf pried his hands off his shoulders. He thrashed wildly when Aedan took his spot, he and Zevran pinning Anders down while the mage's hands flung out towards his lover, reaching for him.

"Don't let him do this, Aedan. Please don't let him. Please!"

Sigrun, Velanna and Christopher looked horrified as Fenris walked to the dais, ignoring Anders' cries. He paused, and looked over his shoulder at Aedan. "Don't let him run. Not anymore." He turned back when Aedan gave him a short, determined nod of his head.

Corypheus smiled when Fenris reached him and held out his hand. "You have made the right choice."

Taking his cold fingers in his own, Fenris gave him an answering smile of his own. "I know." His brands flared to life and Fenris stepped further into the Fade than ever before. He pushed at boundaries that he had only ever felt hinted at. As the light grew brighter, he could hear Anders screaming in the distance, tearing at his heart. A tear slipped down his face and he gripped Corypheus' hand tighter.

And then they were gone.


	33. Chapter 33

The Fade was vastly different when you were there in your physical body. The surealness of the landscape was magnified, and everything-from the colors, to the air you breathed-felt wrong. Fenris dropped to his hands and knees, his arms trembling to keep his body from collapsing to the ground. It felt like his very being was threatening to fly apart, and was only held together by his will alone. Maybe that's why a strong willed person was needed. Not just to survive the ritual, but to make sure they would not shatter when they entered the Fade.

As always, the Black City could be seen in the distance. It was the eternal center of the Fade, seen from wherever you were. All roads and no roads led to the Black City, its twisting spires punching into the sky. The bluff they stood upon looked like the one Fenris had been on before. But as the Fade was mutable, it was only his imaginings that made it so. He pushed himself to his feet and saw Corypheus at the edge of the bluff, staring at the Black City.

"After all these years, I have finally returned." He gestured at the fortress before them. "The City was never golden. It was a lie, a trick to lure the unsuspecting. But now I have returned, I will take the power promised to me." He glanced at Fenris over his shoulder. "Open the door."

He could leave him here, Fenris thought. He could return, leaving Corypheus in the Fade. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew he couldn't. He had to make sure he was dead. The earth under his feet trembled, and he knew he was out of time.

Corypheus felt it too, and he looked around, his eyes showing the first signs of misgiving. "What—"

The earth exploded, showering dirt that dissipated in the air. Rising out of the ground, and glowing so brilliantly that Fenris had to shield his eyes was Justice. He strode towards them, his feet trailing flames in his wake. Blue fire raced along his body and over the sword he brandished. He was larger than Fenris had ever seen before, a massive spirit of pure energy and power.

"You were not to return. My warning has gone unheeded." Even with the helmet covering his face, Fenris could still feel the full force of his gaze. "And you have brought one of the cursed ones with you."

Corypheus faltered and quailed when Justice turned towards him. "No! I was assured that you were no longer in the Fade."

"I have only recently resumed my post. It was long thought that one of your kind might return. Hope had thought otherwise—as is her want-but I was never convinced." He advanced on Corypheus and the mage raised his hands, shouting in Arcanum. No spells came to him, and he looked on his powerless hands in horror.

"You are nothing here," Justice informed him. "For all your knowledge, did it not occur to you to inhabit a body that could wield the power you grasp for?" Corypheus' mouth opened and closed in dawning terror as Justice lifted his blade. In one stroke, the spirit sliced at his neck, sending his head flying off the bluff and into the abyss. But as his body fell lifeless to the ground, Corypheus still stood. His soul wavered in the unreal light of the Fade, a malevolent grin on his face.

"You cannot kill me so easily." He turned his eyes on Fenris. "You knew he was here, this is why you capitulated so easily. I will take your body and the power it holds." He flew at Fenris and the elf stumbled backwards his arms raised to ward off the oncoming ghost. The true visage of Corypheus was terrible to look at. His skin was stretched tight, pulled at awkward and painful looking angles.

Justice stepped between Fenris and Corypheus and snagged him with a heavily gauntleted fist. He looked like a toy in Justice's hand, so insignificant and tiny. "No. For too long you have escaped justice for the horrors you have unleashed upon the world." He squeezed his fist and Corypheus screamed in agony. "You will feel the pain of the lives that have been lost because of your actions." Thrashing his head, Corypheus' screams became a symphony. Voices that were not his own overlaid his cries, rising to a chorus that had Fenris covering his ears in an attempt to block the sound. Corypheus' head whipped back and forth, moving faster and faster until it was just a blur of motion. As the screams rose into a crescendo, the sound abruptly stopped, Corypheus' soul flying apart, shattering into nothingness.

The silence was deafening after so much chaos. Fenris swallowed heavily as he stared at Justice's massive back. For a moment, neither of them said a word. Around them, no wind blew. There was no sound of birds, no rustling of grass or trees. The Fade had stopped-even the ethereal mist overhead had ceased moving. Justice turned, and Fenris had to plant his feet in the ground to stop himself from taking a step back.

"You were warned. Why did you return?"

"Does it matter?" Fenris knew he was going to die. He had known the second he had decided to bring Corypheus here. He tore at the straps of his gauntlets with his teeth, and let his armor fall to the ground. He touched the string on his wrist and pressed his lips to it, closing his eyes. He wondered if he would see Anders again, or if Justice would tear him into nothingness.

If Hope resided nearby and could hear him, he sent a wish her way that he would one day meet with Anders again. Next time there would be nothing coloring his perceptions of the man. Next time he would not take for granted Anders' presence. He would let Anders hold his hand in front of others, and call him all the pet names he wanted. He would make sure that no one like the mage's father would ever hurt him again. Next time, he wished that they would meet in a place far from the horrors of the waking world, where they both could be free and untainted from their pasts.

"I'm ready." Fenris opened his eyes and stared at that silly piece of string, that physical part of Anders that never left him. He wanted that to be the last thing he saw before he died.

Fenris looked up with startled eyes when he heard Justice's voice instead of feeling his sword cleave his head from his body. '"It does matter. Why did you return?" Justice was smaller now, more at the height of Fenris than the giant he had been.

So Fenris told him. He told him about Corypheus and the Architect and the trap they had laid out. He told him about how the only way he had seen out was to bring him into the Fade, and allow Justice to deal with the both of them. He spoke of Anders, and how the mage had pleaded with him to stay, screaming as if Fenris had his hand on his heart and was ripping the organ free.

That led to Fenris telling him more, the words tumbling out of his mouth of their own volition. He spoke of Anders and how the mage was thriving in the keep. He told him about the progress he was making in the infirmary, and that Aedan had promised to draft a letter to King Alistair to request a meeting. He said it all with a smile on his face and in his eyes, his barriers gone now with death so imminent. All the while his thumb rubbed circles over the string.

When he was finished, when there was no more to tell, Fenris looked down at his wrist once more. "I'm ready now."

Justice was silent, and then placed a hand on Fenris' chest. "No. This is not justice." He pushed and instead of hitting the ground, Fenris kept falling, the world dissolving around him.

"For all that I did to Anders, you being with him is justice."

And then he knew no more.

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><p>AN: One more chapter and part one is finished!


	34. Chapter 34

I want to thank everyone who has reviewed and encouraged me through out this story. it means a lot.

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><p>Anders' fingers drifted through Pounce's fur as they both lay on the mage's bed. He let the rumbling of the cat's purr vibrate over his chest in contentment. If only he could achieve the same state so easily. In what had become a ritual with him, he turned his face to the side and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The scent of leather and steel-underlined with Fenris' scent-wafted up from the pillow. He felt the familiar hollowness open up inside him, threatening to drag him down into a pit of despair. Anders had no more tears left to cry, and now he felt almost nothing at all.<p>

Fenris had been dead for a month. As each week, each day, each hour passed, Anders could feel himself slip away. He never left his room unless it was to assume his duties in the infirmary. He ate only rarely, when his body's demand for food became too great.

When the darkspawn had scattered at the Architect's behest, Anders had known that Fenris had been successful. Aedan had run to the dais then, and grabbed the darkspawn by his robes, a sword to his throat. The argument they had then had been one sided, with Aedan threatening everything from dismemberment to incineration for what the Architect had done.

He had been willing to hand Aedan over to Corypheus, just to see what would happen. Aedan couldn't countenance it. He had always known that the Architect would betray the wardens one day, but knowing and seeing where two different things. The Architect had let Aedan vent his spleen, watching with impassive eyes as the Warden-Commander screamed in his face, disgust and rage lacing every word.

But Aedan was Aedan, and after all these years, the Architect knew him well. With a few well chosen words, he had Aedan releasing him. When Anders had seen that he had lost it. He had no magic left and he was weak, but he still managed to find the strength to snatch a dagger from Sigrun's side and rush at the fallen darkspawn, the blade raised and his face twisted in rage. Zevran had tackled him to the ground, and Anders had narrowly missed impaling himself. He had screamed at Aedan, calling for the Architect's head as he had clawed at the ground, tearing his fingernails in the process.

He would kill Zevran for stopping him. He would kill Aedan for letting Fenris go. He would kill the Architect for trapping them in that impossible situation. He no longer cared about oaths, or his outlandish goal of seeing the mages of Thedas have a better life. It meant nothing to him anymore. What good were oaths when the one you swore them to would betray your trust in him?

For a second time.

Anders had accused Aedan of not even wanting to look for a better way, only doing just enough and nothing more. He had jumped too quickly on Fenris' plan. He had not tried hard enough to talk the elf out of it. Contrary to the lip service Aedan paid, the Warden-Commander used people to further his own goals. Anders and his wishes had meant nothing to Aedan so many years ago. Why else would he have let a templar into the keep? What Anders had done with Justice, had been laid at Aedan's door as well.

Behind him, he could hear Sigrun crying and Velanna's shocked gasps. They had only incensed him further. They had stood by and done nothing, letting Fenris save them. Fenris had been nothing to them as well, except a means to save their own lives. He told them as much, snarling at them as he craned his neck back to give them a baleful glare. His eyes had lit upon Zevran, the elf's hands pressing his shoulders to the ground. He had threatened Zevran then, telling Aedan that one day he would know the pain of Anders' loss.

It hadn't been like him to lash out at his friends like this. But his pain had been too great, his sorrow too fresh. It felt like he had been flayed alive and each one of his nerves was exposed. Aedan had given Zevran a short nod and the assassin made sure that Anders could not spill his vitriol on anyone else. With a few strategic pinches to his neck, darkness swamped his vision and he fell unconscious, Aedan's face-naked and full of sorrow-the last thing he saw.

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><p>He had woken up tied to his own bed. His body had been cleansed and fresh bandages put on his wounds. Varric sat next to him on a chair, and had started when he saw Anders was awake.<p>

For two weeks, Anders had someone in his room with him. He was allowed nowhere outside of his quarters except to bath, which he only did when he couldn't stand his own stench anymore. Food was brought to him, and plates barely touched were taken away. For the first three days, Anders had slipped in and out of consciousness. He had taxed his body beyond what it should have been able to do, taken too much of himself to heal Aedan. It had also been easier. In his dreams he searched for Fenris, his heart unwilling to believe that the elf was gone.

He spoke to no one, until the day-a week and a half after Fenris had disappeared-that Varric had told them they were going to hold a ceremony for those that had died in the Deep Roads. If a warden's body was retrievable, then they were burned and a marker was placed in a field just outside the keep's walls. Anders had rolled over in his bed and faced the wall as Varric spoke. He did not want to hear the words coming out of the dwarf's mouth, but he knew they were coming all the same.

"Since Brood—" Varric had stopped himself. "Since Fenris was integral in saving us all, Cousland has commissioned a marble stone in his honor. You should go, Blondie. It might help."

Anders had turned then, facing Varric, his face full of incredulity. "Help? Will it bring him back to me? Or do you think I should just forget so easily?" He had been naked under his blanket and as he sat up it fell to pool around his waist. "Get out," he had hissed.

Varric had only shaken his head. "Can't do that, Blondie. We can't leave you alone."

"Why? Because Fenris told Aedan to make sure I didn't run?"

"No," Varric had sighed. "Because leaving you alone is the last thing you need right now."

Anders had buried his face in his hands. He couldn't stand the way they looked at him, as if he was so fragile that the slightest thing would shatter him, sending pieces of himself scattering to the floor-never mind that it was true. He hadn't felt like this when Karl had died—the only lover of his other than Fenris that had let get so close.

"_And you don't think I am going to leave you, so now you want to know?"_ Anders had sobbed as Fenris' words echoed in his ears, the sound muffled by his palms. He _had_ thought that. Foolishly—naively-he had thought that. He should have known better. Wardens were not long lived. Someday he and Fenris would have to part. There would be no quiet cottage to see them into their dotage—not for them.

Varric had let Anders cry, and only when his sobs quieted down to small hiccups, did the dwarf pat him gently on the shoulder.

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><p>He had gone to the ceremony. He had known if he didn't, then he would never forgive himself. He had kept away from the crowd gathered outside of the keep and spoke to no one. He had worn one of Fenris' tunics, needing a reminder of his lover close by while the wardens gave up on him.<p>

That was how Anders saw it.

They were giving up.

There was no body to burn, no corpse to see. Anders' mind couldn't grasp Fenris' death without it. It all seemed so unreal, as if the elf was away and the others had decided he was never coming back. But as each day went by, Anders was beginning to believe it himself.

He had resumed his duties in the infirmary, throwing himself into his work. He was up at dawn, and did not leave until well pass dusk and the keep was quiet. There were injured wardens to tend to, and Aedan's own wounds had turned putrid. That had been the hardest, healing Aedan and helping his body fight off infection and fever from poorly healed injuries. Darkspawn weapons were not clean. All manner of things could get into a wound inflicted by one of their swords. As good as Christopher was, the young warden had not done as he should have to make sure that didn't happen, sealing things inside when he had knitted Aedan's flesh together.

And Christopher…

He was always there. No matter where Anders turned the other healer was next to him, offering him a charming smile and a helping hand. It angered Anders, and he was short and abrupt with him. His lessons in the infirmary suffered for it. He no longer smiled, and had no patience for those that did not pay attention. He had given Christopher a verbal tongue lashing for treating Aedan so poorly, even as he knew how hypocritical his words were.

Aedan did not mention the things Anders had said to him, and acted as if it did not happen. For that Anders was grateful. If Aedan had to see him, Anders made sure it was alone and without Zevran. He couldn't stand the sight of the two of them together. It reminded him of too much—of what he had lost.

Varric had left three weeks after Fenris had died, and Anders was saddened to see him go. The dwarf had tried his best, but when he talked about Sigrun, his voice would become soft and wistful. In a fit of pique, Anders had reminded him that not only was she a warden, but part of the Legion of the Dead. If he could get around one, he could not get around the other. Varric had looked so stricken, that Anders had immediately felt remorse and apologized. Even though Varric said he had forgiven him, he still left the next day to return to Kirkwall. Anders couldn't help but think it was his fault.

"Another one lost, Pounce. I seem to be very good at it driving people away." Pounce gave him a look, that seemed to say, _Not me, I am made of sterner stuff._

Anders closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. He did as he was supposed to. He walked, and talked, but he felt like a puppet that was going through the motions, and someone else was pulling the strings. He was trying to do as Fenris asked; he was trying to be strong. But at times, he didn't know if it was worth it. He knew what he would say to someone if it were another person in his place. He would tell them to hold on to their memories, but that they should be happy and not live a half life.

Those sentiments seemed so trite.

But he knew it would be what Fenris would have wanted. Fenris never wanted to see Anders Tranquil, and what he was now was just a ceremony and a lyrium brand away from being just that. Fenris hadn't wanted that for him. He had shown it when he asked Anders to be strong, and when he asked Aedan to make sure Anders didn't run.

But, oh how it hurt.

So Anders chose to feel nothing at all.

He rolled over and blew out the candle at his bedside, dislodging Pounce in the process. He closed his eyes, pressing his face once more into Fenris' pillow. How long until it no longer smelled like him? Or would every whiff of steel and leather on the breeze remind Anders of him?

For the first time in a very long while, Anders thought of his mother. When he had first entered the circle, the smell of baking bread and fresh snow on the ground had reminded him of her. He had cried into the pillow she had given him, the material stuffed in his mouth to muffle the noise. He wouldn't give the templars the satisfaction of hearing him. He hadn't been back to the Anderfels since, and he'd had many opportunities to do so. One could never go back. Sometimes, it was best to keep moving forward and leave painful memories behind, carrying nothing but the good with you.

He kept forgetting that lesson.

But it was easier said than done. If he was being honest with himself, he knew he had never been back because he didn't think he could stand it if his mother had forgotten about him. What if his childhood memories were nothing but the imaginings of a scared little boy?

He hated this. He hated being this way. Fenris' death had dredged up things he didn't like thinking about. Things he had thought he had finally put behind him. Because although he could never go back, that didn't mean a part of him wasn't still there. The way a part of Fenris would always be with Anders.

Pounce's low purr accompanied Anders' slow and even breathing. Before he slipped off into sleep, his final thoughts were of his mother and Fenris, accompanied by the smell of fresh snow.

* * *

><p>Anders woke up to the feeling of lips on his neck and a warm body at his back. Between the sleeping and waking world, he murmured a pleased sigh, and arched himself into hands that quested over his chest. Teeth scraped over his shoulder, and a delicious shiver sent goose bumps down his body. A hard cock was pressed insistently into his backside, and Anders could feel his own throbbing as his body awoke before his mind did.<p>

He was urged onto his back and Anders reached down to tangle his fingers in long, silky hair. The strands slid along his chest, caressing him softly. It was a wonderful dream, one he knew he would lose when he woke fully, grasping as it slipped from his fingers and disappeared like smoke. He sighed Fenris' name, and moaned when talented lips and tongue lashed at his nipples, sending them into hard points. Teeth scraped over him once more before biting down—hard.

Anders' eyes shot open at the sharp pain and he looked down. Green eyes that he never thought he would see again stared back at him through a fall of long, tangled white hair. "I've finally snapped," Anders said to the apparition. "I've gone insane."

Fenris' face twisted into a scowl that Anders knew so well he felt his heart do a flip. "Finally snapped? I think you've passed that a long time ago, mage."

He pushed Fenris off of him and the elf went easily. Anders sat up and scooted back on the bed until his back hit the headboard, stopping his retreat. "You're not real. My Fenris is dead."

Sighing, Fenris sat back and pushed his hair off his face in irritation. "I assure you I am very real." He reached out for Anders and the mage moved out of the way, falling off the edge of the bed. Anders scrambled to his feet and grabbed his robes from the floor. With one eye on Fenris, he slipped them on.

"No. No, you're not." Fenris didn't have that hair. That wonderful hair that Anders had begged the elf once to grow out for him. But he wanted to believe, he wanted to believe so badly. He inched his way to the door as he kept Fenris in his line of sight. "You're a demon come to tempt me with something I want." He reached behind him and wrenched the door open. "If I didn't give in the day he died, then I won't give in now." He turned and ran out into the hall, Fenris calling out after him.

He didn't know where else to go but to Aedan. His bare feet slapped on the stone floor as he ran. It was just before dawn, so Aedan should be up by now. If not, then Anders was going to have to make him get up. He just hoped Zevran and Aedan weren't in the middle of something. Not that he wasn't curious. With their vague references—okay, not so vague—Anders got the impression their bedroom antics were pretty lively. Okay, good, there we go. Panicking and thinking of people's sex lives. Why was he returning to normal now when he had a demon in his room? Why couldn't it happen when people spoke to him, instead of when danger was lurking?

He didn't stop to knock on Aedan's door. Instead he threw it open and burst into the room with no preamble. Aedan had half risen out of his seat, when he saw it was Anders his body visibly relaxed and he sat back down. Anders halted in front of Aedan's desk and slapped his palms flat on the wood. His chest heaved as he panted and tried to catch his breath.

"Demon… my room… need help…"

Aedan blinked at him before his eyebrows drew down sharply and he rose. "Zev!" he called out to the closed door to the right side of the room. "We've got a bit of a pest problem in Anders' room." He walked over to where his weapons were displayed on a rack and pulled a sword free.

The door opened and Zevran came waltzing out, his mouth opening in a yawn. "So early, my warden? I—" He took a step back, his eyes widening as he cursed in Antivian. Anders turned slowly, already knowing what he was going to see as Aedan lifted his sword.

Fenris stood in the doorway. He had pulled on fresh clothing, his standard black leggings and tunic. He looked out of breath, and Anders knew he had given chase. He held up his hands to show he was unarmed and Anders gave a mental wince. The demon had even gotten the lyrium lines in his palms down. "Wait…" he started.

Aedan pointed his sword at Fenris, his lips curling. "Who are you?"

Green eyes tracked Zevran as the assassin moved around the room. "Why do you insist I am not who I say I am?" Fenris said carefully.

"Because the visage you are currently wearing belonged to someone who died a month ago," Aedan answered. "As a demon, you are a very poor one. Although I'll give you points for gall. Your hair is wrong though, so some points will have to come off for that."

Fenris growled and grabbed hanks of his hair with both of his fists. "I came back like this." He pulled. "This was not my idea. Do you think I would purposefully make myself look so foolish?"

Anders' eyebrows shot up and he felt a small spark of hope flare in his chest. The heart that he had thought that Fenris had taken with him began to beat rapidly in his chest. "Aedan," he whispered.

"Don't, Anders. He's just trying to fool you. It's how they work, you know that." Aedan skirted around his desk and came to a stop next to Anders.

Fenris looked startled and his hands went lax at his sides. "A month? I've been gone a month?" His foot started to tap on the floor, and Anders felt that small spark catch and turn into a flame. A tear slipped down his cheek and he wiped at it furiously.

"A month, love. It's been that long. We thought you were dead." Anders covered his mouth with his hand to prevent the sob that welled up from escaping.

"No, I—" Fenris took a step forward and reached out for Anders, but Zevran stepped into his path, blocking the way. Fenris' head dropped down, his shoulder length hair falling like a curtain over his face. He glared out at the assassin through dark lashes. "Get out of my way. I don't want to have to hurt you again."

Zevran's lips quirked into a deadly smile. "I would like to see you try. I'm not about to give up our new playmate to a demon. Aedan loves the electricity trick he can do."

Fenris let out a cry of rage and his arms shimmered. He moved quicker than the other elf, his hand in his chest before Anders could cry out a word of warning. Fenris leaned in close, his teeth bared in a snarl. "Tell me you're lying and I will let you live."

A sword point grazed his throat and Fenris flicked his eyes to the side to see Aedan, his face pulled into grim lines. "Do it and I'll take your head."

"Happy now, Zev?" Aedan asked him.

"Yes. But I confess… I need to stop… provoking him. I very much like… my heart where it is… yes?" Zevran had his hands around Fenris' forearm, as if that could stop him from pulling his hand free, taking his heart with it. He let go when he felt Fenris release his heart and pull his hand back. Zevran collapsed to his knees, his hands clutching his chest.

The second Zevran was free Aedan swung a fist towards Fenris. It caught the elf in the jaw, staggering him backwards. "You do that again and I'll make sure that you stay dead this time," Aedan warned.

Anders rushed over to Fenris and pulled him into his arms. His hands roamed over the elf's body, and when he reached his jaw, he sent a trickle of healing magic through it. Fenris bit off a moan, and Anders let out a half sob, half laugh to hear it. "I never thought I would see you again." He brushed Fenris' hair from his face.

Fenris gave him a smile, a genuine smile from the heart. He touched Anders' cheek, heedless of the audience they had. "I thought the same. I should have died. Justice he—" he was cut off when Anders crushed his mouth to Fenris' in a devouring kiss. He kissed the elf like it was the first time and the last time. Anders' kiss was full of joy and sorrow, and Fenris' tasted of regret at Anders' pain.

Aedan cleared his throat. "If you're done, I think Fenris has some explaining to do." Fenris was the first to break away, suddenly all too aware that they were being watched. A flush crept up his throat and reached the tips of his ears. He made to step back, but hesitated. Instead, he laced his fingers through Anders' and turned towards his commander. He wasn't going to let his embarrassment stop him from touching Anders whenever he wanted. If others chose to see it as a weakness then so be it. He had almost lost Anders, and wasn't going to take this for granted ever again.

"Where do I start?"

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><p>AN: And the part one is finished! Part two, You Can Never Go Back will start up here in a few days. Some lingering questions, like what happened to Varania and the Architect will be explained there. Thanks for reading!


	35. You Can Never Go Back Chapter 1

Thanks to everyone that reads and reviews!_  
><em>

A/N: I admit some trepidation about part two. I've had this planned out for a long time, and am a little nervous about what I have planned for the boys.

Also I would like to apologize. I had meant to have a poll about Fenris' hair. I was going to leave it up to you wonderful reviewers as a thank you if he should keep it long or not, but I didn't realize I had forgotten until two days later. So tell me if it goes or stays. Untitled Dragon has it in the right about his hair. He'll keep it if Anders wants him to, but for fighting, he likes it short.

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><p><em>Dear Anders, <em>

_I was so excited when I got your last letter. It has been so long since you have written that I was worried. I know you don't go into the Deep Roads as often as other wardens do, but I was worried all the same. _

_So how are you? Do you have any more wardens you are training to be healers, or is it still just the few you have been working with? Don't work too hard. I know how you can get, but I am sure that Fenris is taking care of you and making you eat. _

_Have I mentioned lately how wonderful I think it is that the two of you are together? Because if I haven't I'm doing so now. Isabela said that last time she saw the two of you a few months ago that you both seemed to be doing well. I know that Fenris had just gotten back from an expedition without you—I'm glad he's okay. She said she didn't see the two of you much since you were both "celebrating the end of your month long blight." I don't want to know what that means. That must have been hard to be parted for so long._

_Not much new is going on with me. Cullen and I are still not married and it looks like that isn't going to change anytime soon. He's the Knight-Commander and I'm the Viscount. Politically, it wouldn't look good if we were married. It might seem like the templars have too much control over the Viscount and the power structure would be thrown off. After what happened over a year ago, no one wants to smell even a whiff of a templar in power—true or not. It's silly, since all of Kirkwall knows I had his son. But Maker forbid a woman not be beholden to her husband's whims. My feeble female brain can barely tolerate being Viscount. If I had a husband, who knows how he might sway me. Didn't you know that a piece of paper and words in front of the Maker just diminishes my mind?_

_Sorry, been a little rough lately._

_Malcolm is doing well. He's been trying to sit up on his own now. I wish you and Fenris could see him. Can you imagine Fenris holding a baby? I confess, the thought makes me laugh whenever it crosses my mind. _

_So tell me the truth. Is Isabela sleeping with Nathaniel Howe? She has been very evasive about it—which is strange for her—but I keep getting the impression that's why she's always at Vigil's Keep. I can't imagine anything else keeping her landlocked for weeks at a time._

_You might not have heard, but Merrill is in the Gallows now. There was nothing I or Cullen could do. I admit that it caused more than one fight between us. The templars are Cullen's life, and even though he had kept quiet about her, he still had to allow his men to take her when they came to him with news of her existence. I'm afraid for her. Cullen has not mentioned her dabbling in blood magic—which has lessened over the past year—but if she is caught while in the circle… I don't need to tell you what the consequences would be._

_Aveline and Donnic are expecting their first child in the spring. I found out when Donnic came to me, begging me to get Aveline to listen to him. She wouldn't take time off from the guards. I pointed out to her that her armor wouldn't fit her forever and that if she didn't want to look like a fool in it, then she needed to stop for a while._

_That got her attention._

_Carver wanted me to give his regards to you and Fenris. I think he misses Fenris. Did you know they were hanging out behind our backs? Seems Carver use to go and drink with Fenris. I shudder when I think of the things they might have talked about. I guess it make sense. None of us talked to Carver when he joined the templars for a while. Fenris didn't have the same bias that you and I had._

_Speaking of Carver—he's much better now. When he went off to find out why we were being attacked—Cullen and Carver put their foot down and I wasn't allowed to go—he came back changed. He wouldn't talk about what happened, and I had to find out from Aveline. I'm glad they were able to destroy that creature. So don't worry about me. I admit, your letter asking about it took me by surprise. I know, warden secrets. Blah, blah, blah…_

_Your last letter mentioned that Varania is still working with a prisoner of the wardens. I hope Fenris is all right with that. I know you can't explain much—again, warden secrets and all—but I hope that Fenris has at least talked with her._

_You should be warned that Varric is making plans to visit soon. I think he's really going to see Sigrun. I know that they've been exchanging letters for a year now. I dearly wish I could meet her, and see the woman that has Varric Tethras tongue-tied. He admitted to me that he finds it easier to talk to her on paper. He does have a way with words. You wouldn't believe the stories he tells Malcolm of you and Fenris. One is about the Fade and the Black City. _

_I've gone on long enough, so I will just end with yet another entreaty for a visit. I cannot leave Kirkwall for many reasons, or you can be sure I would be on Isabela's next ship out, Malcom in tow._

_Write back soon!_

_Love,_

_Marian_

_P.S. Tell Fenris that his handwriting has improved a lot. I believe that is due to you. If it is, then I am glad you've been working with him._

_P.P.S I know that Fenris will hate it, but give him a hug and kiss for me._

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><p>Anders chuckled at the last line, and smiled as he folded Marian's letter, slipping it into his robes. He was seated at the dining hall for the lunch hour, and he went back to eating his meal of cold ham and cheese. Across from him, Velanna and Sigrun were talking in low whispers, their eyes on a piece of paper in Sigrun's hands. At one point, Sigrun blushed, the skin where she wasn't marked flushing on her face. Ah, letter from Varric. Anders grinned down at his meal. Varric had thankfully not taken Anders' words to heart when he had last been at the keep. For the past year, he had been writing to Sigrun, and if her blushes had anything to say about it, the dwarf was making good progress.<p>

Well, good for him.

Not every romance had to have a rocky start-Anders took a bite of the pungent cheese and looked at Nate out of the corner of his eyes-unlike some. Everyone in the keep knew that Isabela and Nate were sleeping together. No one knew how it started, or how it happened, and Anders didn't want to know. Who was he kidding, he was dying to know. Because Nate, _seriously_? He eyed the man next to him. Well, he could see it. It wasn't as if Anders hadn't entertained the notion all those years ago. It was just he was so _Nate_.

Nate gave him a questioning look when he caught Anders staring at him. Anders smiled around a mouth full of food and the other man rolled his eyes. Nate could just be so blighted dour at times. Not that Anders should be the one to talk.

Even though Fenris had softened around Anders, he still was the same as ever. Every morning he went out to the practice yard and ran drills, breaking only for lunch before returning. He came to the dining hall after the supper bell smelling of sweat and steel. Not that Anders was complaining. If he had to pick a duo of scents that was quintessential Fenris, it would be them. He would rather that then the times when Fenris was sent to the Deep Roads. He hated it when that happened. He hated it so much that the first few times, he and Aedan had screaming matches about it. Anders had to stay at the keep. There was no getting around that. He was the best healer they had, and if he were killed in action, then Aedan would be left with his students, who were good, but not up to the commander's standards.

On one hand, Anders loved that he was thought so highly of. The wardens allowed his skills to develop in a way the circle never did. He had come to Kirkwall ill prepared for treating the masses the way he had. The Chantry frowned upon books on anatomy, citing the lure of blood magic if one knew too much.

That was bullshit.

It hampered healers all over Thedas. Anders was good, but if one didn't know where bone A socketed in bone B, then how were you suppose to save people? Aedan didn't care. He allowed Anders all the banned books he could get his grubby little apostate's hands on. On a one occasion, he'd let Anders dissect a corpse to illustrate to his students just exactly where things were.

Christopher had fainted.

So yeah, he understood. But that didn't mean he had to like it. Fenris was a seasoned warrior that had gone toe to toe with darkspawn before he became a warden. He took his obligations seriously and never did anything impulsively when on the battlefield. Outside of it was another matter. He and few of the older wardens had created quite the name for themselves in the keep. When Aedan needed someone to delve into the Deep Roads, they were the first ones he chose.

Fenris—in his own way—was making friends. Anders didn't think his lover realized it, and he wasn't about to tell him.

Speaking of Fenris… Anders polished off the last of his meal and licked the cold grease from his fingers. His eyes darted to the doorway and he sighed. Fenris usually met him for lunch, one of the few times in their day that they could see each other. But Aedan had called him into his office-which could only mean one thing.

Fenris was going back into the blighted Deep Roads, leaving Anders with only Pounce for company. Pounce was lovely and all, a perfect specimen of feline beauty, but Anders hated it when Fenris went. Anders could foresee long nights of sleeplessness worrying about the elf until he came back unscathed.

His mood-which had been high upon finishing Marian's letter-plummeted. He pushed his empty plate from him and made to stand, when he heard a commotion from the doorway.

"Fenris! Void take you, stop!" Every eye in the room turned towards the sound of Aedan shouting. Fenris came striding in, still clad in his armor from the practice yard. Aedan had commissioned him his own armor, built for the elf's special needs. A chain shirt draped past his thighs, the steel links black and dull, and a chest plate covered his breastbone. He had new gauntlets since losing his in the Fade. They were copies of his older ones, also stained black. In fact, from his pauldrons to the metal covering his knee high leather boots, everything was black except for the blue and silver tabard of the Grey Wardens. When the first snows had fallen in Ferelden, Fenris had given in and began wearing shoes-at least when he was in his armor. Any other time he still went shoeless, his bare feet padding on the stones of the keep.

His hair, which he had kept long after a week of Anders begging him, was tied back in a braid that went down his back. Time moved differently in the Fade. What had been only a moment for Fenris, had turned into a month in the waking world. Mortals were not allowed there for many reasons. But that moment for Fenris had also been a lot longer. Enough time had passed for his hair to grow down to his shoulders. The logistics of it—when Anders thought of it—were mind boggling. Time had no meaning in the Fade. What was time to those that were timeless?

Fenris' hard gaze moved over the room, alighting on the wardens there and dismissing them quickly. The skin around the bridge of his nose wrinkled as he scowled. When his eyes stopped on the far right of the room, the lines on his face deepened and he pointed. "You!"

Every eye in the room turned to where Fenris was pointing. Men at the table stood, some of them scrambling away from the elf's irate stare. Anders got to his feet when he saw who Fenris was pointing at. "Lov—"

Fenris snarled and charged Christopher, hopping over chairs and tables that got in his way with a grace that Anders would have admired if the circumstances had been different. Christopher had no chance to get away. He stood and almost tripped over his feet to escape the enraged elf when Fenris caught up to him. He fisted Christopher's robes in both of his hands, the soft material tearing under his grip.

"You'll pay for this." Fenris picked the young warden up and slammed him down on top of the table, the reverberation sending plates and tankards clattering to the floor. "If you think to be rid of me so easily, you should have just killed me. I told you before I would cut your hands off." The room was so quiet that his words echoed in the cavernous dining hall and could be heard by all. "Maybe I should just take your eyes. I could pluck them from your skull. Do you think that would stop your ability to write letters? Or should I take your tongue as well, and strip you of your ability to tell tales to those that have no business in hearing them?" As he reached the end of his sentence, his voice had gone deathly quiet and Christopher whimpered.

"Let him go." Aedan's command boomed in the room, and those that were still seated got to their feet in attention, their chairs scraping loudly on the stone floor. He strode over to Fernis, his face resolute. "Now."

"Shit." Anders made to go over to them, but Nate's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Don't. I can't allow you to get into it with Aedan in front of the men," he murmured. "You'll find out soon enough."

Anders jerked his arm in a fruitless attempt to break free. "What's happening?" The look that Nate gave him was full of pity and Anders felt his stomach bottom out. "Nate…"

"If I had taken his hands like I first wanted to, this wouldn't be happening," Fenris snapped over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving the warden in his grasp. "It's been a year, you said they were satisfied."

"I was wrong. I can't predict what they will do at any given time." Aedan shot Christopher a look that said he wasn't happy with him either. "Now let him go."

"No. If I am to be punished, let it be for something of my choosing." He lifted Christopher up and slammed his head back down on the table.

"You aren't being punished." The way Aedan said it, Anders could tell he had already been over this with Fenris. "Let him go and you and Anders can come to my office. Let me deal with Christopher. Do you really want your last days here to be in the dungeon, with the Architect for company?"

Fenris exhaled an irritated sigh through his nose. He slammed Christopher's head back once more and released his grip. He looked down at the healer. "This isn't over. You can't have him." Fenris backed away, his disdain for Christohper twisting his face.

"Can't do much about it." Christopher gave Fenris a sly grin. "You won't be here, will you?" This time it was Aedan who grabbed the young warden by the robes. He lifted him up and pushed him back, sending him stumbling to the ground.

"But I will be. You're supposed to be a warden. That comes with a trust to keep our secrets. You've violated that trust." He motioned with his hand and two wardens came to grab Christopher under his arms and lifted him to his feet. "Get him out of my sight. Take him down to the dungeons and put him near the Architect and his assistants. I want him to have a good hard look at what's at stake, and what happens when you betray my trust."

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><p>Anders read the letter in his hands for what must have been the tenth time. His brain couldn't process what was happening. After all this time, they had thought that Weisshaupt was satisfied with the edited report that Aedan had given of what had happened in the Deep Roads and Corypheus. He had told them everything, leaving out Fenris' involvement and Corypheus' ability to inhabit those with the taint. He'd said only that the creature was destroyed and the Architect was now in custody. That the custody also entailed his assistants- Varania included-and a laboratory was omitted. Weisshaupt didn't need to know that Aedan was allowing the Archiect to continue his work under the commander's watchful eye.<p>

Varania was helping him because she had no other choice. She had become tainted during her imprisonment in the Deep Roads and only the Architect's intervention had saved her mind, the way he had saved Velanna's sister so many years ago. She had found-much to her surprise-that she liked the work. She was able to use her innate magical ability for something worthwhile, something no one else was attempting. She chafed at her isolation, but it was better than dead or a life as a ghoul.

Fenris paced Aedan's office, his arms folded and his fingers tapping a tempo on his bicep. Five steps, turn. Five steps, turn. Tap, tap, taptaptap. Tap, tap, taptaptap. Fenris hardly ever fidgeted anymore. It was a testament to how comfortable he had become with the wardens, and how agitated he was now.

"I can't believe he wrote to the First Warden," Anders said as he held up the letter. "Who does that? Who in their right mind would want to talk to Weisshaupt?" As Fenris fell into habitual restlessness, so did Anders with his jokes. "Sorry, Aedan, I mean, who would want to talk to them without being forced to. I'm surprised he took the time out to read it with all the manly posturing, the ruling of the Anderfels, and darkspawn killing-can't forget that proud Anderfels tradition- that they do over there."

"Well he did. And now Fenris has been called to Weisshaupt." Aedan's eyes tracked Fenris' progress around the room. "My command has been called into question. If I wasn't the Arl of Amaranthine, I think the bastard would strip me of my rank and send me on my Calling early. As it is, he can't remove me, but he can make it uncomfortable for a long while. This won't be forgotten easily."

"He told him everything. Everything!" Anders exclaimed. "I'm surprised he even believed Christopher."

Fenris stopped his pacing and rounded on Anders. "Do not speak his name."

The mage rolled his eyes. "And what am I suppose to refer to him as? That little shit? You need to be realistic."

"_I_ need to be realistic? I am firmly set in reality right now." Fenris gestured wildly, and his voice rose. "Aedan has capitulated and is sending me to Weisshaupt-without you. In his infinite wisdom, he has decided that you cannot be spared." His eyes narrowed. "Need I remind you of what we said a year ago about Weisshaupt?"

Anders slowly lowered the letter in his hands, his eyes widening. "No," he whispered, "you don't." Sadness welled up inside him, threatening to choke him. Life with the wardens could be hard, but he and Fenris had made a home together here. If they ran, then they would both be hunted once more. Anders would return to the status of wanted apostate, the wardens and the circle would not let him be. Without having to look over his shoulder or second guessing everything he said for fear of giving himself away, Anders had forgotten what a heavy burden it could be. He could never live as openly as he did with the wardens.

And neither could Fenris.

With Danarius gone, Fenris no longer had to watch his back as much as he had. There was no anticipation of the knife in the dark—or at least, there hadn't been. But if the wardens were no longer a safe haven for Fenris, then it was no longer good enough for Anders.

"Don't even think about it," Aedan warned, deducing their meaning. "I am summoned to Weisshaupt as well. If I show up without you, then they will most certainly take Vigil's Keep away from me and give it to another. I've worked too hard to build what we have here to let that happen."

"If we've ran, then why would you be to blame?" Fenris shot back. "Let us go, Aedan."

As Aedan and Fenris bickered, Anders couldn't stop thinking about Aedan had said. What would it mean for the wardens of Ferelden if he was stripped of his command? A Ferelden without its hero to safeguard them is what it would mean. Another warden put in charge that would undo all of Aedan's work. No matter Anders' feeling about the Architect and his work, Aedan saw enough merit in it to not kill the darkspawn outright. In fact, the Architect thrived in his search for a way to end the blights and to free the wardens from their Calling. Look at what he'd already done for Varania. She should already be mad now and turned ghoul. Instead, she walked and talked with all of her mental facilities intact. There had to be some good in that. If another not of Aedan's choosing took over, all that would vanish. Anders didn't doubt that the Architect would be killed outright.

And what about the men? There would be chaos. Aedan was loved by the Ferelden wardens. He was the standard that they strove to achieve. He defeated an Archdemon and survived. He and another warden had gathered a nation together enough to stop a blight in a matter of a year. That was something Weisshaupt could not boast of. The Anderfels were a wasteland from the blights that had overridden it. Ferelden had come out of it relatively unscathed in comparison. The wardens of Ferelden loved their hero, if Weisshaupt took that away from them, there would be a revolt. The last one had destroyed the wardens of Ferelden. They had only just recovered, and had been ill equipped for the fifth blight as a consequence.

Something like that couldn't happen again—and Aedan knew it.

"You have to go, love," Anders said softly. "It's the only way. If Aedan is with you, then he won't let anything happen to you." He glanced at Aedan for reassurance and the man nodded.

"This is one of your ill timed jokes," Fenris scoffed. "After what was said between us, you would still wish me to go?"

It was times like this that Anders still wished he was the callow youth he once had been. That Anders had never worried about doing the right thing if it went against his wants and needs. That Anders had also not cared about the consequences of his action, and how it affected others. "I'm not joking."

"You would send me to the wolves!" Fenris shouted. "I will not walk out of there, mark my words. They will keep me or kill me."

Anders buried his face in his hands. Things had been so much easier with Justice. Stands like the one he was making could be all laid at the spirit's door. Anders didn't have to take so much responsibility for the hard choices in life. "Aedan will be there with you. He won't let that happen," he muttered into his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut to prevent tears from falling. Fenris hated it when he cried. Not because he saw it as a weakness, but because he didn't like to see Anders in pain. He wouldn't allow the elf to see him do it now, if Fenris would go, it had to be because Anders didn't guilt him into it. Fenris would never forgive him.

"If they do then I'll get you out of there myself," Aedan assured him. "It might not come to that. If we go, we can still salvage this. Christopher is one, lone warden. One who wants your lover and will say anything to get you out of Anders' life. If he won't take my word for it, then we'll leave and to the Void with Weisshaupt. I've played their game and become arl, and my best friend is the blighted King of Ferelden. He can't just tear all of my work down because I didn't share. He gave me some of my power so that he could see if a warden could rule the way they do in the Anderfels, he can't just take it back now."

But he could, and Anders saw the moment that Fenris realized it. His arms went lax at his sides and his eyes widened slightly. He had been with Fenris long enough now that he could read the intricacies of his emotions on his face. Anders could practically hear the gears turning in Fenris' head as the elf glanced around the room. Fenris' eyes noted the shields displayed on Aedan's wall emblazoned with the twin griffons of the wardens. He glanced at the never ending pile of paperwork on Aedan's desk. Lastly he looked at Aedan and the scars on the man's arms from his last foray into the Deep Roads, the ones he had earned trying to keep Anders alive.

Fenris let out a slow breath and scrubbed at his face, careful not to catch his skin with his gauntlets. "All right, on one condition." Aedan raised an eyebrow in question.

"Anders comes with us, or we both run."


	36. Chapter 36

A huge thank you to everyone that has read and reviewed!

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><p>Anders arched his back into the lips moving over his chest. He hissed in a breath as Fenris' teeth scraped over his nipple. They were leaving for the City of Amaranthine in the morning. From there they would catch a ship to Kirkwall and make their way to the Anderfels. Anders was looking forward to seeing his friends in Kirkwall. He had missed them this past year, and letters were not the same as talking to someone face to face. Even though Fenris wouldn't admit it, he was looking forward to it too. Aedan and Oghren were going with them. As one of the companions that had been instrumental in helping the Warden-Commander during the fifth blight, Oghren's words—Maker help them all—carried weight.<p>

It went without saying that Zevran was going as well.

Aedan hadn't even bothered to argue the point. It showed Anders just how much Aedan was worried about this visit that he didn't want to leave the elf behind. Nate as second was to stay and take over the running of the arldom and the keep in Aedan's absence.

Anders was worried about Fenris. Not only were they going to the Anderfels, but they would be so close to Tevinter. The Anderfels had a long history with their neighbors. They had been conquered time and again by the Imperium, causing strife between the two countries. The Anders as a people did not forget easily. They were as immovable as the mountains they called home and had memories as high as the peaks. Escaped slaves learned quickly to move on from the Anderfels for warmer, more welcoming climes. Weisshaupt was situated near the border of the Imperium. Fenris had confided that he had never crossed that way, since he had escaped further north and made his way through Antiva instead.

Thank the Maker for that.

There were going to be two reactions to Fenris in the Anderfels. Either he would be derided for being a lanky, beautiful elf, or he would be lauded for having such great ability in battle. You never knew with the Anders. The mage's memories of the place were so distant now, but he could still recall how only the strongest men had ruled in each village. The more proof you could show of your ability to protect what was yours, the more respect you got. Anders had a hard time as a child. He had been tall and thin for his age, genetics and malnutrition warring against him. He had never had the ability to swing a sword the way his father did, and the man had lamented to whoever would give him a sympathetic ear, that Anders was useless and not worth what little food he was given.

The women were even worse. They were as hard as the men, and learned from a young age how to care for the brutes that ruled over them. Maybe Anders had a skewed opinion worthy of Fenris, but he couldn't shake how much he hated the place and the people there. Living so close to their once oppressors and dealing with an unforgiving blighted land, could only breed a stubborn set of people. Might made right in the Anderfels and it was the reason the wardens held such power there.

The king was ineffectual and weak, seen by all as nothing more than a figurehead. The First Warden ruled in the Anderfels in truth. The wardens were the epitome of strength. They fought the darkspawn that still flowed in slow trickles in the country, and Tevinter—if they were so inclined—would have to move around Weisshaupt to get to the interior.

So no, Anders was not looking forward to this trip. As Fenris enclosed his mouth around Anders' cock and rolled his sac gently between his fingers, all the bitterness and worry slipped away. Andraste's tits, he never got tired of this. He wove his fingers through Fenris' hair, loving the feel of the silky strands as they glided over his thighs. As much as he loved his lover's mouth on his prick, he loved it more when Fenris whispered obscene things to him as he moved inside the mage. Just thinking about the things Fenris had said to him two nights before had his balls drawing up tight against his shaft.

Fenris had wanted to watch while Anders touched himself, something that he had never done before for the elf-not on his own. With his thighs spread lewdly on the bed and his hands on his cock, Anders had stroked himself while he had three fingers working in his ass. Fenris had sat on the edge of the bed, his avid eyes heated as he watched Anders.

It wasn't until Fenris started speaking in a low voice that Anders had truly lost what little sanity he had. He had asked Anders if he was thinking of him when he touched himself, thinking about his cock shuttling in and out of his backside and pounding him into the mattress. Did his fingers compare, or was it not as good as the real thing? He forced Anders to admit to filthy things, asking him if he had ever wanted to see for himself if Aedan and Zevran were as loud in the bedchamber as they were in person. Fenris delved into Anders' secret fantasies without judgment or censure. He asked if Anders wanted Fenris to be cock deep inside him while he watched Aedan take Zevran, or have the other wardens in the keep watch what a slut Anders could be when he had a large prick inside him. Fenris could fuck him in the middle of the dining hall under the lustful gaze of all. He would make Anders scream in ecstasy while they saw how Fenris treated him like a fuck toy.

Anders' eyes snapped open and his body tensed, his buttocks clenching as he felt himself tip over the edge, and his hips pumped his cock between Fenris' lips without care for the elf. He cried out as he came, his balls emptying themselves down the elf's throat from Fenris' ministrations and his own memories.

As he lay panting on the bed, Fenris shot up and straddled his chest. Anders obediently opened his mouth in expectation and the elf didn't disappoint. He rubbed his glans over Anders' lip and the mage licked the taste of pre-cum off. His tongue darted out and lapped at the leaking slit. He could never get enough of Fenris. Whatever the elf wanted from him, Anders would easily give. It had become a game of sorts with them, to see how far Fenris could push Anders in the bedchamber before the mage told him it was too far.

It hadn't happened yet.

There were times when Fenris fucked him so hard, that Anders couldn't see the fine line between pain and pleasure. There were other times when Fenris made love to him, rocking into him gently with soft caresses and sweet kisses. Anders didn't know what Fenris he loved more. Both of them fed a craving inside him, one for the times when Anders just needed to be used. The other for when he wanted an emotional connection that no one else could give him.

As Fenris slipped his cock between Anders' lips and pushed inside, he gripped the mage's hair and pulled it roughly from his hair tie. Anders hair was the same jaw length it had been ever since he had left the wardens. It was cut a little bit straighter then it had been. He had been doing it himself with a knife and the results had always been a mish-mash of lengths. The string that Fenris had stolen from him had frayed and fallen off long ago. The elf had taken to snagging other ones to replace it without a word to Anders.

Fenris slid his hands down Anders' cheeks, his callused palms catching on the stubble. With his thumbs placed under his jaw, he tilted the mage's head back as he angled Anders' throat. He braced one hand on the headboard and slowly rolled his hips, inching his cock further and further in Anders' receptive throat. When Fenris was balls deep inside him, he paused. Elves had no hair anywhere on them except for their heads. It allowed Anders to feel nothing but smooth skin as his nose touched his lover's pelvis. Anders took in a few deep breaths through his nose—he knew what came next. Fenris' musky scent swamped him and he closed his eyes and moaned around the cock in his mouth, sending reverberations down the shaft. One more breath and Fenris pinched Anders' nose shut. Anders rolled his eyes upwards to see Fenris staring down at him, his hair falling around his face and shutting out everything else, his eyes half lidded in pleasure.

"Good boy…" Fenris moved his hips back and forth in shallow strokes. Anders was literally choking on the elf's cock and he loved every second of it. The need to breath clawed at him, but the desire to see that undone look on Fenris' face was greater. Fenris always waited just a moment longer each time he did this, pushing the boundaries of what Anders could tolerate. With his hands on Fenris' hips, Anders knew he was safe. All it would take was a squeeze of his fingers and Fenris would pull back. Anders savored the moment, Fenris' cock gliding in and out of his wet, stretched lips, the moans the elf made and the taste of his excitement on his tongue.

"You're so good at sucking cock, Anders. So—guh—good," Fenris ground out. The fingers on Anders' nose began to shake and Fenris abruptly let go, his hands scrabbling against the headboard for purchase. Anders gasped in a grateful breath, before opening his mouth wide and letting Fenris fuck his throat. He looked up to see Fenris' head tilted back, and Anders could just imagine the look of abandon on his face.

He felt his cock leaking, pre-cum dripping down a shaft that should have already been spent. Warden stamina aside, one climax was never enough for him. Fenris twisted the upper half of his body and dropped a hand from the headboard. He gripped Anders' slippery prick and began to pump. Anders rutted into the knowing grip, sliding in and out of the tight encircling of Fenris' fingers.

The lines of lean muscles in Fenris' body began to tighten, defining his abdomen in hills and valleys. "Where do you want it?" Fenris asked in between panting breaths. A dull flush colored Anders' face and ears. Fenris always knew the answer to that, but he made Anders say it each time. It was one more little humiliation they played at, but this was different than the others. For some reason this was the one thing that pushed at Anders' boundaries, the thin line that was set up in his head. Fenris knew it and each time he asked, it was understood that he was requesting something of Anders that the mage had a hard time voicing. It was a simple question, but the answer had so many things wrapped up in it-Anders' need for degradation versus exposing it.

"Where, Anders?" Fenris repeated. The hand on the mage's cock moved faster and then paused, Fenris' fingers tightening.

Anders whimpered-a Maker damned whimper- in frustration. He was so close and Fenris' fingers were tightening rhythmically on his prick, squeezing the head just on this side of pain. He pulled his head back just far enough to speak, his eyes darting away from Fenris' intense stare.

"Please…" he begged. "You know where."

"Look at me, Anders," Fenris gritted out. "Tell me what you want."

Hesitantly, Anders looked up. The answer he gave was pulled out of him in the face of those insistent green eyes. "My face, I want you to come on my face."

Fenris gave him a feral smile, his eyes glittering behind half lowered lashes. "All you have to do it ask. Whatever you want it yours." He slid a hand over his chest while the other gripped Anders by the hair and lifted his face. When he reached his cock-slick with pre-cum and saliva-he gave himself a few pumps, his body shuddering. "Touch yourself…"

Anders bent his knees and reached around Fenris to grasp his prick. He stared at the cock in front of him as he timed his strokes with Fenris' hand. They had both already been so close, that soon they were gasping in pleasure, their panting breaths and the snapping sound of their hands punctuating the silence of the room.

Moaning, Fenris was the first to come. His hand was a blur of motion, and his prick blushed a violent shade of red. "I'm going to come," he warned. "Take it—fuck—take it…" Anders closed his eyes a second before the first stream of come shot out, splattering on his face. Fenris' cock jumped again, bathing the mage's cheek. The flow turned into a trickle as the elf milked his prick painting Anders' lips.

Anders' body tightened as he licked his lips, cleaning Fenris' essence and rolling the flavor around on his tongue. He opened his eyes to see Fenris watching him, a heated and possessive look on his face. The hand on his cock froze as he held himself on the edge of climax much in the same way Fenris held his eyes. The moment seemed to stretch on forever, until the needs of Anders' body couldn't be ignored anymore and he gave himself that one final stroke. His cock twitched, sending semen pouring over his hand, droplets landing on Fenris' back.

Fingers slid over his face, gathering up the cooling semen and pushing it into Anders' mouth. The mage's tongue cleansed each digit until there was no more left. Leaning down, Fenris crushed their lips together and Anders thrust the taste of the elf into his mouth with his tongue.

"Love you," Anders croaked. His voice was raw from the abuse his throat had been given.

"Love you too." Fenris pulled back just enough to give Anders a genuine smile that was always for the mage alone.

_Nevermind,_ Anders thought as he gazed into his lover's smiling and sated face_. I like this Fenris better than the others._


	37. Chapter 37

Thank you so much to everyone that reviews, and reads!

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><p>"Kirkwall, how I've missed you and your fetid streets!" Anders stood on the deck of the ship and opened his arms wide, as if embracing the city as the ship approached. He gestured to the Twins, the massive statues that guarded the entrance to the port. "And the Twins! How are you? Still showing what one can expect when they enter Kirkwall I see." He saluted them both. "Welcome to Kirkwall, where you can be whatever you wish. As long as that entails subjugation and drudgery-otherwise don't bother."<p>

"Are you quite done?" Fenris had a cloak pulled tight around him against the cold of the winter sea. He glowered at Anders. "I think we get the point."

"But doesn't it just make you all gooey inside?" Anders asked him, turning around with a smile. "Or is that vomit? I think it actually might be vomit, what do you think?" Anders had not stopped since they woke up this morning to the news they would be reaching Kirkwall in a few hours. The mage had scrambled from the cabin they shared and been on deck ever since, watching their inexorable approach.

"What I think obviously had no ability to make you stop your incessant babbling, so I will refrain." The trip across the sea had tested Fenris' patience. Between Anders' boredom and anxiety—and a bored Anders was a frightening thing indeed—and Oghren's seasickness, no one had any peace. If the dwarf wasn't complaining and vomiting, then Anders was chattering nonstop. Dwarves came from the earth, and hard stone under their feet is what their bodies knew. Being on a ship and its constant motion had thrown Oghren off balance, something that he didn't have in abundance in the first place.

Aedan and Zevran had chosen the smart route and stayed inside their cabin for the two week trip. The ship was not Isabela's much quicker one, and the journey had dragged on. Fenris didn't have the luxury of being able to shut himself away. Anders would just come looking for him, and even though it pained Fenris to admit it, he had gone out of his way to hide from the mage a few times.

Anders was nervous about more than returning to Kirkwall. There was a lot at stake on this trip. During the past six months, Anders had been working with Wynn on circle reform. She was deep in circle politics, and had connections that Anders needed to work on a better life for the mages from the inside. On their way to Weisshaupt, they were to go to the circles in Kirkwall, Starkhaven, and the Anderfels. The Starkhaven circle was in the midst of being rebuilt, and Anders thought it would be a perfect place to use as a model of what could be. They would be bypassing any circle in Nevarra. Nevarra was the seat of the Grand Enchanter, and would not change how things were run so easily. Already, Anders and Wynn had begun small changes in the Ferelden circle, with the backing of the king. If they could show the Grand Enchanter and the College of Magi how change did not have to mean strife with the Chantry, then maybe they had a chance.

So in returning to Kirkwall, going to Weisshaupt, and the responsibility of convincing a select few circles of his need, Anders was a bit of a mess. The only reason he hadn't fallen apart and run gibbering for the hills, was that he was no longer that person anymore. He passionately believed in a better life for all mages and he had a chance to do it right this time.

That didn't mean he still didn't feel like going somewhere and hiding for a few decades.

Anders had turned back to the railing and braced his forearms on the wood. A crowd had gathered on the docks, and he could just make out what the commotion was. "Maker, she didn't…"

Fenris moved next to Anders to get a better look. "It seems she did. I think there will be more of this wherever we go. Aedan is very important after all. Hero of Ferelden and a Warden-Commander, both those titles carry weight."

"Meanwhile, our hero is in his cabin probably screwing his lover. I have to say, it can be pretty funny sometimes to see people's faces fall when they realize how little he cares about it all." Anders laughed and then shook his head in disbelief. "But seriously, this is insane—and I know insane."

Templars and the city guard stood at attention on the docks. Behind them nobles had gathered, craning their necks to get a good look at the ship. In the midst of it all on a platform, stood Marian and Cullen. Both were dressed in their finest and Cullen's armor gleamed in the winter sun.

"It's like they think he's the blighted king or something," Anders exclaimed.

Fenris' lips twitched in a smile. "It appears so. But consider this, if we receive a reception such as this in other cities that we travel to, it might help you on your mission. You said the Prince of Starkhaven has just recently returned to reclaim his lands, maybe he would like to host the Hero of Ferelden." He raised an eyebrow at Anders and the mage snorted.

"Well, never have it be said that Anders was one to turn down canoodling with a prince." He raised his arm and waved to the ecstatic crowd while Fenris rolled his eyes.

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><p>After the speeches—<em>speeches<em> for Maker's sake—the wardens went with Cullen and Marian to the Viscount's Keep. They sat for what Anders was certain passed for an intimate dinner, but resembled something like a banquet. The room was furnished opulently, with deep red brocade curtains and a large table handcrafted in Orlais-by Andraste blessed virgins, no doubt. Above them a crystal chandelier glittered, throwing shards of light around the room. Anders couldn't get over at how Marian had come up in the world, and he told her as much as the second course was served.

She laughed at him and punched him in the shoulder. "Quiet you. You're just jealous." Fenris sat on Marian's other side and was ignoring the byplay while he ate with studious efficiency. Aveline and Donnic sat next to Fenris, which Anders thought was a good idea. The guardswomen and her husband had always gotten along better with Fenris than Anders. Across the table sat Varric, Isabela, Cullen, Aedan, Zevran and Oghren. Merril was not able to join them, and Anders didn't need Marian to explain why. He would go visit her in the morning when he went to the Gallows on official business. Official business… Anders… He blinked and shoved a forkful of red potato in his mouth. Maker, _that_ was a nerve wracking thought.

He turned to Marian to get his mind off of the meeting he would have in the morning. "Of course I'm jealous. Look at this place. It's like living in the Rose," he said around a mouthful of food.

"Ew." Marian wrinkled her nose. "Don't the wardens teach you any manners?" She brought her goblet to her lips and paused. "Wait, did you just compare my house to a brothel?"

"A very good brothel," Anders pointed out as he swallowed.

"Ignore him, Hawke." Fenris dabbed at his lips with a napkin. "He's been like this for weeks now. If you value your sanity, don't engage."

"Have you not been engaging poor Anders," Isabela piped up. She smiled slowly, her eyes gleaming wickedly, and Anders had to wonder how long she had been saving up what she was about to say next. "Did he not pass his Harrowing? Are you going to take your _great_, _big_, broadsword and shove it into him when—"

"You're here!" Everyone in the room look to the door to see Carver, a smile on his face. "When you wrote and said you were coming I didn't think it would be so soon." En mass, their eyes swiveled to Fenris who had gotten to his feet. He gave Carver a small smile as the young templar skirted around the table to give the elf a hug.

Anders felt his jaw go slack as several things clicked into place, and he snapped it shut. He had been so sure it had been Isabela that Fenris had slept with. She had visited him more than a few times over the years—more than Anders ever had. But Carver… Carver had been there constantly when he had first joined the templars. Carver—from what Marian had said in her last letter—who use to sit with the elf and drink with him.

He hissed out a small breath between his teeth. Why this bothered him when it hadn't when he had erroneously thought it had been Isabela, he didn't know. No… That wasn't true. He knew precisely why. Isabela would never be serious about Fenris, while Carver on the other hand…

He jerked his eyes away to see Isabela give him a pitying look. Anders narrowed his eyes at her and she shrugged in response, as if to say 'why worry about it?' As he listened to the two of them talk-Fenris with an amiable tone in his voice-Anders wished he had her attitude. And _why _did she always seem to know these things? Did she have some sort of sex divining rod that she used to see who was screwing who-and who wanted to?

And _where_ could Anders get one?

Even after being together for over a year, and all the things they had been through, Anders still found himself feeling insecure from time to time. He had never had a relationship last this long, and he wasn't sure what to do. The circle was filled with the fickle—one had to be. Anders had become use to his lovers leaving—whether forcibly by the templars, or because they had moved on to another. It's how _he _had operated. He'd had six months with Karl, and _that_ had been his longest relationship until Fenris. Even with the Calling hanging over their heads, they still had years together to look forward to yet.

If Anders didn't screw it up first.

Carver took a seat across from Fenris and the two of them began chatting. Anders resumed eating, but he tasted nothing of the opulent meal as he pretended not to eavesdrop. The ones who sat at his end of the table could sense his disquiet and Varric began to tell him amusing tales of Marian's antics through the past year-much to Hawke's chagrin.

"So then Hawke tells Lady Pansybottom—"

"It was Panybotam, Varric," Marian reminded him, her face flushed red.

"My name is better. So anyway, she tells Lady Pansybottom that Malcolm wasn't actually conceived in a night of passion with our esteemed Knight-Commander, but she had really picked him up out of a spindleweed patch and either way, she was more pure than her ladyship's daughter, who everyone knew had worked her way through her household servants. By the time Hawke had vanquished her foe verbally, the woman could do nothing but gape at Hawke, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. And with the way her eyes bugged out, that description isn't too far off. The very next day," Anders found himself leaning forward with Aedan and Zevran, "little Lady Pansybottom was shipped off for the Chantry, where she now spends the rest of her life in quiet reflection of-what I am sure are-her many carnal sins."

Anders barked out a laugh which was made even worse when Marian threw her napkin at Varric that he deftly caught in midair. "It wasn't quite like that," she muttered.

"Yes, it was." Cullen raised an eyebrow at her. "I was there. She made some comment insinuating you were a trollop, and Malcolm was a worthless bastard. Then you got that look in your eyes."

"Like the one she has now?" Zevran asked as Aedan elbowed him in the ribs.

"Yes, exactly like that," Varric answered.

"I hate you all so, so very much." Marian glowered at them, but her words lacked any heat.

As they all laughed—even Marian—Anders realized that when it came down to it, what Fenris had done before didn't matter. Wasn't Anders always telling him that? If he meant it-if he truly believed it-then he had to let it go. Someday they would run into someone Anders had slept with, and when that happened, Anders would feel nothing for them but fondness. Alright, not fondness for _all_ of them, but some of them, yes.

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><p>But that didn't mean Anders could keep his mouth shut.<p>

"So, Carver, huh? How did that happen?" They were in their guest room and Anders was already in bed and under the blankets.

Fenris paused in his preparations for bed and lowered a damp, soapy cloth from his face. "It was only a few times," he answered carefully. "Does it bother you?"

"Yes… No… I…" Anders floundered for words to describe his conflicting emotions, "Maybe? I just assumed it had been Isabela, because you know…"

"She's promiscuous," Fenris supplied. He finished scrubbing his face and rinsed out the cloth.

"Well, yeah. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I mean…" Anders gave up trying to explain himself and just settled for watching Fenris in the mirror he was using.

Fenris wrung out the cloth and draped it over the edge of the water basin. He turned and leaned against the marble table, his hands gripping the edge behind him. "I would never sleep with Isabela."

"Why not? She was always over at your place and she came on to you frequently at the Hanged Man." Anders remembered each of those times. The jealousy that had burned in him at the thought of the two of them together hadn't been some of his finer moments.

Pushing himself away from the table, Fenris padded naked across the lush, thick rug towards the bed. He sat down at the edge of the mattress next to Anders and the mage sat up. Fenris' fingers tapped a staccato on the sheets and Anders found himself reaching out to place a hand on the elf's to arrest his movement. Turning his hand palm up, he threaded his fingers with Anders'.

"I… I don't like sleeping with women. Danarius, he would make me…" Fenris closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. "He would to use my brands to get me ready…" Anders squeezed his hand in reassurance. "He knew I was not attracted to…" Fenris turned his head, his hair falling over his face, hiding him from Anders. "He thought it was a grand way to prove his control over me."

Anders didn't know what to say. His concerns and worries seemed so trite now. Instead of speaking, he leaned over and placed a kiss on Fenris' neck, at the pulse he could see jumping just under his skin. They sat that way for a long while, Anders with his head on Fenris' shoulder and their fingers intertwined. The silence stretched out, but for the first time in weeks, he didn't feel the need to fill it. It wasn't oppressive, and didn't hold any of the fears and worries that had been plaguing Anders. Instead, there was comfort in it, a safety in not saying words to someone who didn't need to hear them. He felt Fenris turn, his hair sweeping across Anders' face, and place a kiss on top of his head.

"Besides," Fenris finally said, breaking the moment. "I know she visited you often for healing. I'm not a fool."


	38. Chapter 38

A/N:

Sorry for the long wait. It's been a crazy week. Back to your normally scheduled fic!

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><p>"So <em>then<em> I tell him he's a hypocrite, and asked him how would he feel if Malcolm turned out to be a mage and he was taken from him and Hawke?" Anders slumped down on the finely appointed sofa in Marian's sitting room. "It couldn't have gone worse. Why did I think I could do this?" He had just returned from the Gallows and his meeting with Cullen, Knight-Captain Agatha and First Enchanter Marylyn. He had gone all out and dressed in a new set of robes for the occasion. He had even shaved, and made sure not a hint of his normal stubble shadowed his jaw.

Bringing a bag full of scrolls and parchment outlining his plans, and wearing the guise of respectability, he had arrived at the gates an hour before the meeting. He had wanted to be taken seriously, and Varric's many remarks about his rebel mage persona had finally sunk in. He had bought the robes in Amarathine before they had set sail. It had taken him two hours to choose what he finally bought, and driven Fenris insane in the process. They were a neutral shade of green and the material was soft, but not so expensive that it looked like he was being ostentatious. Aedan had drummed it in his head that he was not to appear as a warden during these meetings. It was mage business and nothing else. He had felt self-conscious as he dressed this morning, and Fenris had to tell him a dozen times over that he looked fine.

But you could take the mage out of the rebel, but not the rebel out of the mage.

It hadn't been long into the meeting before Anders found himself spouting off things that usually could be found in the manifestos he use to write. He had proselytized on the plight of mages and how they were nothing but Chantry approved slaves. The more passionate he became, the harder Cullen's eyes had turned. Eventually they were shouting at each other with the Knight-Captain between them.

Quite frankly, Anders was surprised Cullen hadn't just thrown him in a cell and been done with it. The things Anders had said were seditious, and it showed him that he would have to learn how to temper his emotions if he had any hope of convincing anyone else of his proposals.

"It wasn't that bad, Anders." Marian slipped an arm around his shoulder and gave him a hug. "Cullen is going to try and let a few of the mages see their families for a trial period. So you accomplished something at least."

Anders leaned his head against her shoulder and smiled. "Yeah, that is something. I was just hoping for more."

"You said you knew of him when you were in the Ferelden circle," Fenris pointed out. "You also mentioned that he was known for holding to the rules." He was seated across from them and had Malcolm in his arms. The baby was currently occupied with trying to reach for Fenris' ears. The elf looked uncomfortable, and he held the baby as if he was afraid the child might suddenly explode. Granted, there was a chance he might,-either verbally or by other more disgusting means-but he wasn't one of Varric's bombs. It hadn't escaped Anders' notice-while he was bemoaning the failure of his meeting with Cullen-that Fenris hadn't asked to have someone else take Malcolm, instead he kept him in his lap, his head arched out of the way of grasping fingers.

"I knew of him, yeah. But I just thought that he might have changed. I thought the Gallows would be the easy one." And he had thought wrong. Cullen was a templar, through and through. He took his duty seriously, never mind about his relationship to Hawke.

"Don't look at me," Marian said, correctly reading what Anders had assumed. "If we fight about anything it's circle policy. It was awful when Merrill was taken. Cullen has her watched constantly. The only reason he hasn't killed her or made her Tranquil is for my sake. He hates that there is a blood mage he knows about in a circle he has command over. I made her promise to stop, and told her how serious this was. It's only her word and what he feels for me that have stayed his hand. If she breaks it, then there is nothing I can do."

Anders felt a headache coming on, and rubbed at his temples. He let a small healing spell drift out with a sigh, and the pressure in his head eased. A strangled sound came from Fenris, and he looked up to see the elf glaring at him over the baby's head. Fenris had accused Anders in the past of purposefully using magic for no good reason other than to get a reaction from his lover. Anders' magic did something to Fenris' brands. The elf had once described it as feeling like Anders' fingers were stroking down his skin, followed immediately by his tongue. So yes, it was true he had used that to his advantage once or twice—or five delicious times—but if he had a headache, he wasn't going to suffer through it.

"I should just break her out and solve both of your problems. No Merrill in the Gallows, no worry," Anders said absently.

"No!" Marian and Fenris spoke at the same time, but Anders couldn't help but notice that Marian's voice lacked the vehemence that Fenris' had. It was as if she was only saying it because she thought that she should, not because she meant it.

"May I point out what a colossal mistake it would be if you did such a thing?" Fenris finally set Malcolm down on the floor and the baby dutifully crawled on his belly to Marian's feet. "Do you want me to describe in great detail what Aedan would do to you if you helped Merrill to escape? As he is fond of reminding us, we are wardens now. We can't be seen doing such things."

"Then we won't be seen, love. That's a necessity of breaking someone out of a place like the Gallows. You don't get caught." Anders rubbed at his chin, slightly unnerved by the smoothness that met his palm.

"You can't be seriously considering this?" Fenris had crossed his legs and was tapping his foot against his calf. It was like watching a cat, if they started twitching their tails you knew they were warning you to back off.

Anders had the scars from cat scratches to prove that he never took the warnings.

"Why shouldn't we? She's in the Gallows and I know how I can get her out. We can send her to Wynn, she'll treat Merrill a blighted sight better." As the idea took hold, plans started forming in Anders' head. "I would just need a few days to prepare."

"That quickly?" Anders' confidence was infectious to Marian. "It would solve a lot of problems. Cullen won't send her to another circle because," and here she deepened her voice, "I wouldn't be able to keep a watch out for her. I know where she is now." She bent down and picked Malcolm up, giving him a kiss on the top of his head.

Anders laughed. "Oh! You got him perfectly. Do it again, this time say—"

"Enough!" Fenris shot to his feet. "This is no laughing matter. If you get caught, then think of the consequences. I won't allow it."

Anders stood as well. "You won't allow it? Who knows what's going on in there. Sure, Cullen might have gotten rid of a lot of Meredith's lackeys that survived the battle, but that doesn't mean it has changed completely. They'll make her Tranquil, Fenris, mark my words."

"And mark mine, mage," Fenris shot back. "You would waltz back into a situation that might end up in your incarceration-again. You blithely speak of the blood mage being made Tranquil, but you don't give a care for your own safety. I won't allow you to put yourself at such needless risk. I won't stand by again and wonder if you are dead or if you have been made Tranquil."

Anders reared back-stunned. "Fenris…" He reached out for his lover and Fenris knocked his hand away.

"No. I won't go through that again. I had to wait days before I could come and retrieve you the first time. How I felt then I do not want to ever feel again. You will not do this."

"I'll do it." Everyone turned to see Zevran standing in the room, and Anders wondered how long he had been there. Blighted assassin loved sneaking up on people. "Just tell me how to get in and they will never know I was there. I'm not a mage or a warden, so what could they do to me?" He gave a careless shrug.

"Aedan won't like it." Why Anders was trying to talk Zevran _out_ of it, he didn't know. That's not true, he knew precisely why. It just felt wrong to ask someone else to take the risk. And well, there was Aedan's wrath to consider. Anders didn't want to be around the man when he found out—or even in the city.

"Aedan will not know until I am already back." He sauntered over to a sideboard and plucked a grape from a pile of fruit sitting artfully in a bowl. "We will fight about it afterwards, I will say all of the appropriate things to apologize, promise never to do it again,—which we both know to be a lie—and then we will make passionate love. We all win if I go. My way is much better, yes?" He popped the grape in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"This is madness." Fenris threw up his hands. "Leave the woman be. She has brought this on herself with her meddling in things she shouldn't have. Let the templars have her and be done with it."

Anders tapped his chest. "_I _meddle in things I shouldn't. Every time I teach a class on anatomy I am breaking Chantry law, do you think I should be locked up as well? Our room alone would be enough to get me convicted. Or do you pretend not to see the banned books that strain the bookshelf near our bed?" Anders had already had one argument about the circles today, if Fenris wanted to give him another, he was more than prepared.

"That's different and you know it," Fenris hissed. "You are trying to save lives, and she will eventually take them by consorting with demons."

"No, it's not," Anders insisted. "Not according to the Chantry. I'm just as guilty in the eyes of the Divine as Merrill is. Intent means nothing to them. You know that Merrill would never do anything to hurt another soul. She doesn't have it in her."

"Doesn't she?" Fenris retorted. "How long before she succumbs? Don't be deliberately obtuse, Anders. You're smarter than you let on and I won't have you playing the fool in front of me. One day she will go too far and she will destroy those around her. You know it, I know it, Hawke knows it and the danger is that Merrill doesn't. She is better off where she is. At least in the care of the Templars they can put her down when she becomes dangerous."

Anders was incredulous. "Do you hear yourself? Put her down? She's not a rabid dog Fenris. For Maker's sakes, she gets sidetracked at the Wounded Coast picking flowers."

"When she accepts a demon's proposition, she will have to be put down. What other term would you have me use to make it more palatable for you? Beheaded? Killed? Going into the wondrous arms of the Maker? What, Anders?" Fenris had lost his temper, and he couldn't stop the taunting words coming out of his mouth even if he wanted to. Anders had to see reason. It was all well and good for him to have such passionate beliefs, but not when it was irrational. If Merrill's escape was connected to the wardens in anyway, it could have unforeseen consequences. It would even jeopardize all of Anders' and Wynn's work, and he said as much to Anders.

"You're being stubborn," Anders accused. "You just don't want her freed, admit it."

Fenris spread his hands wide. "Admit it? I am saying it as clear as I can. She should not be freed. She has made her choices in life and there is no redeeming her. To think otherwise is foolish in the extreme and I did not think you foolish."

Anders snorted. "You've called me it often enough."

"Just because you do foolish things does not mean you are an idiot. If you insist on this insanity then I might have to revise that opinion." Fenris and Anders were now an inch apart from each other—Anders staring down his nose at the elf, and Fenris with his head craned back and his eyes in narrow slits.

'Don't give me ultimatums, love. I don't do well with them," Anders said softly.

"Don't become a fool, then. I do not suffer them lightly." Fenris could see Zevran's and Marian's avid gaze in his periphery, Marian with her eyes wide and Zevran with an amused expression on his face. Fenris was glad that the wardens, Oghren and Aedan were not here. Aedan had gone with Oghren to see the three other wardens they had brought with them on the journey at the Hanged Man. The three of them hadn't felt comfortable staying at the keep. It was bad enough he was having this argument, the less people that saw it the better.

"You can be such an asshole sometimes, you know that?" Anders' lips had thinned into a harsh line.

Zevran cleared his throat. "If I may? Since I am the one that will be taking the risks, then shouldn't it be up to me if I do so? Just a question, if you want to finish your foreplay first, then by all means." He popped another grape in his mouth. As he chewed he turned to Marian.

"From Antiva? I commend your chef for the choice, even if the price might have been dear."

Marian looked dazed from Zevran's sudden change in topic. She held Malcolm clutched to her chest, the baby asleep through all the noise, with his mouth open and a small pool of drool spreading on Marian's collar.

"I… I'll pass on your compliments," she said weakly.

"Good!" Zevran clapped his hands. "Then it is settled, no? Just tell me how to get in and I will have her out and on a ship by this evening. I'll need gold for her passage and a letter for Wynn."

Both Anders and Fenris turned towards Zevran. "Are you seriously doing this?" the elf asked.

"Of course. It is a challenge, yes? I have never broken into a circle before. Well," he reiterated, "not in the Free Marches. I will have a story to tell your Varric, and Aedan and I will have angry sex afterwards. Did I not mention he sex part before? That's very important."

Sometimes—often—Fenris couldn't decide if Zevran was serious or not. His words had the ring of truth to them, but who would break into a circle to free a mage for the sex they might have afterwards? Apparently Zevran would, and Fenris would not be able to talk the assassin out of it the way he might have with Anders.

He threw his hands up in defeat and sat back down. He crossed his arms, physically closing himself off from the others and the conversation. A niggling thought in the back of his mind told him he shouldn't let Zevran go alone, but what could he possibly do to help him? The elf had been a Crow and if he wanted to get into the Gallows, he would.

"Bring something with you to counteract poison," he muttered under his breath. "Giant spiders are known to frequent the sewers and tunnels under Kirkwall."

Zevran gave Fenris a wide smile and a short bow. "I thank you, my friend." When he straightened he looked to Anders. "Now, draw me a map, and be as precise as you can be."


	39. Chapter 39

Thanks to everyone that has read and reviewed! Tis author fuel!

A/N:  
>Wherein a plot begins to form.<p>

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><p>The sewers of Kirkwall left a lot to be desired. It was a rabbit's warren of twists and turns, and unless one knew precisely where to go, you could get lost in them for days—if something didn't kill you first. The city guards and the templars liked to pretend that the sewers weren't the problem that they were. They rarely ever ventured into them unless it was a dire need. Lyrium smugglers, escape slaves and mages, along with the gangs of Kirkwall had made use of them over the years. Each time they had left their mark in dead bodies and the gruesome carvings on the walls.<p>

Not to mention the spiders-and Maker only knew what else-that had called some of the cave system home for far longer than the city had been in existence.

Zevran moved silently through the tunnels, a dagger in one hand and a lantern in another. He had memorized the map that Anders had drawn for him, and quietly hoped that the sewers had not changed in the time the mage had last utilized them. It had been a while since he'd had to use his skills in an unknown environment, and a thrill raced through him at the prospect. He had long ago ferreted out the secrets of Vigil's Keep and Amaranthine. Sneaking into the Gallows was something new, and if he loved anything, it was something new.

Aedan would not be pleased when he found out, but the elf wasn't concerned. One of the many things he loved about the man was that he let Zevran be who he was. He would rage and bluster, but in the end, he would not remain angry. It wasn't complacency, just a statement of fact. Aedan's quiet acceptance was pivotal in their relationship. In return, Zevran made sure that nothing touched Aedan as long as he could prevent it.

If Anders went into the Gallows to break someone free, then it _would _touch Aedan—Fenris had been correct in his assessment. The mage could give all the assurances he wished, but Zevran knew the Knight-Commander would come to him first. Cullen wasn't stupid. A mage comes into the city, asks unreasonable things, and then a few days later, a friend of his escapes. Anders would be the first person Cullen would look to, and Zevran wouldn't blame him. Aedan would be caught in the middle in his zeal to protect one of his men.

No one would look to Zevran as the culprit. He was only the Warden-Commander's pretty lover, beneath notice and suspicion. Or at least, that was how he had to play it for the rest of his time in Kirkwall. If Anders and the others were seen in the Viscount's Keep, away from the Gallows, then no one should look in their direction long.

Neat and simple, just the way Zevran liked it.

As he rounded another corner, he heard heated whispers drifting from up ahead. He paused in mid-stride and tilted his head to the side.

"…already… came… warden…"

Zevran extinguished his lantern, and plunged the tunnel around him into darkness. He slipped it into the sack on his back, careful not to make any noise. Slowly, he made his way to the source of the whispers. Each placement of his feet was calculated for silence as he moved to a bend in the tunnel. He stopped and flattened his back against the wall. He slowed his breathing as his ears strained to hear what was being said.

"If the Knight-Commander was that angry, then maybe we have nothing to worry about. We can only hope that he gives a repeat performance in Starkhaven," said one voice. It was a young woman from Orlais if the faint accent was any indicator. She was trying to cover it up, but it slipped through in her agitation.

"The Prince of Starkhaven will be no problem. He will not go against the Chantry. We must make sure that it stays that way. If it proves necessary, we will eliminate the mage and stop his subversive behavior in its tracks. But it must be done carefully. Nothing must be tied to the Chantry." It was a male and older than the woman, with an accent that marked him as a man from the Free Marches.

"I'll alert our sister in Starkhaven," the woman said. Carefully, Zevran inched his way along the wall. It was a tedious process, and at times he barely moved at all as he drew closer to the bend. When he was near enough, he dropped to the ground and crawled the rest of the way. His nose wrinkled in distaste at the smell that rose to his nostrils. He was just going to not think about what was seeping into his clothes.

Things just got more interesting than a simple rescue.

Up ahead, he could make out two figures with lanterns between them. Both of them were dressed in the garb of the Chantry. Zevran made a mental note of their appearance, committing to memory every detail. The woman was indeed young and looked no older than twenty. She had long, blond hair that was plaited down her back, and she was shorter than most women. She seemed frail and delicate, and her appearance was a strange juxtaposition with her surroundings and the plot she was entangled in.

In contrast, the male appeared as if he had lived in the sewers his whole life. His robes were stained with muck and he looked as if he had not bathed in a long while. A zealot is what first came to Zevran's mind. One of the mad that could be found in every city in Thedas, the ones that raged about the Maker and the end times. He was shaved bald, but Zevran could see that his eyebrows were pure white. His eyes were alight with righteous fervor as he spoke.

"Alert her and tell her to be ready. If the apostate proves too persuasive for the prince, then the Maker shall guide her hand, and a place at his side will be her reward."

The woman muttered a prayer in response and Zevran's mind worked rapid fire. He had three choices as far as he saw it. He could wait for them to leave and continue on to the Gallows, and inform Aedan later on what he witnessed. He could also take them by surprise and question them, but without knowing who they were, that was dicey at best. They had come this far into the tunnels alone, and that was not something someone who was unskilled did and lived. Or he could just outright kill them and save himself some trouble. But then, he ran into the same problem and he would lose any chance of finding out who they were.

His decision made, Zevran waited in the dark as the grimy water seeped into his clothing, chilling his skin. His jaw clenched down to prevent his teeth from chattering as he watched them move off, noting which direction they went.

Counting to himself silently, he waited until enough time had passed and he was sure they were long gone before pulling himself upright. The lantern was retrieved from his pack and he lit it, blinking against the sudden light.

Tomorrow, he would make a little trip to the Chantry and see what he could find out, but right now, he had a blood mage to save.

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><p>"He's where?" Aedan's angry voice boomed through Varric's room at the Hanged Man.<p>

"He's gone to rescue a friend of," Fenris paused, searching for the right word and coming up with nothing, "ours, in the Gallows." Fenris had decided not to wait until Aedan came back to find out where Zevran was. He wasn't going to sit there in the Viscount's Keep with a sword hanging over his head. It was best to get it done now while Aedan was in good company and near alcohol. Anders hadn't wanted to come, but Fenris had pointed out the whole thing had started with his big mouth, and he needed to be there when Aedan was told.

Oghren immediately started laughing. "Can't take your girlfriend anywhere, Cousland. Maybe if you tied him to the bed he wouldn't wander off so much, eh?" The three wardens sitting at Varric's table playing Wicked Grace all looked intently at their cards. One of them, an elf named Denerou, was fighting to keep a smile off his lips—and failing. Denerou, Markum and Sandor were three older wardens—the last two human. They were part of the group that usually went into the Deep Roads with Fenris the most. Nate had insisted that Aedan take them along, incase Weisshaupt proved to be all that they feared and he needed back up. They were also close to Fenris, having fought alongside him for a year now, and the more wardens that could vouch for Fenris, the better.

"Shut it, Oghren," Aedan snapped. He was more than a little drunk. He had been sitting in Varric's room all day, drinking and listening to the dwarf's tales. It was so rare he got a chance to do this. He was always the commander now, a mantle that was at time, too strict. He missed the days when he could just decide to go to a tavern and drink and gamble until well pass dawn.

That only sent the dwarf into fresh peals of laughter. "Oh, this is too rich. Howe was so sure that you would be the one to get into trouble. Never thought of the Crow."

"I'm so sorry, Aedan," Anders offered weakly. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Aedan took a large swig of his ale. He wiped the foam off of his lips with a massive forearm covered in scars. "No, you shouldn't have." He sighed and closed his eyes, letting out a slow, fortifying breath. "But Zev can be rash, and it's hard to talk him out of anything once an idea gets hold. If he wants to do something, then he'll do it." He opened his eyes. "How long has he been gone?"

"Three hours." Fenris felt some of the tension ease out of his shoulders. He took an empty seat at the table. "He said if he wasn't back by morning then to come look for him."

"He should be fine." Varric automatically dealt Fenris in out of habit. "Blondie made it in and out of there countless times. If he can do it, anyone can."

"Thanks, Varric." Anders took a seat opposite of Fenris and was dealt in as well. "I appreciate your confidence of my skills, and years of trial and error."

"Just telling it like it is, Blondie. Can't have it be said Varric Tethras tells lies."

"But that is _all_ you tell." Anders looked at his cards and tossed two into the growing pile in the middle of the table.

"Well, people don't know that. So like I said, can't have it be said that I'm telling untruths." Varric glanced at Aedan over his cards. "You still in, Cousland?" Varric was asking more than if he was still in the card game and Aedan took it that way.

"Yeah…" Aedan propped his elbows up on the table and scrubbed at his face. "Don't let me drink anymore, alright. I need to be somewhat sober when Zev gets back."

Markum was quicker and snagged Aedan's tankard before Oghren could. "Done!"


	40. Chapter 40

Thanks for all the reviews! And thank you to everyone that has been reading and enjoying this story!

A/N:

Soooo. Rough sex warning. Not too bad, but I thought I should throw it out there.

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><p>Anders was slammed against the wall the second the door to their room was closed. The breath whooshed out of him and when he opened his mouth to draw air, Fenris crushed their lips together, his tongue thrusting between the mage's lips.<p>

They had stayed in the Hanged Man all night waiting for word of Zevran. The atmosphere had vacillated between an easy camaraderie, and a tension that had been very uncomfortable to sit through. There had been a taciturn agreement between all of them not to mention Zevran, or why they were waiting for him. The grim lines in Aedan's face had seemed permanently etched there, and despite his resolve he found himself drinking. By the time the messenger from the keep had come to inform them that Zevran had returned, Aedan hadn't been too steady on his feet.

Fenris hadn't been any better in his attitude. He had made snide, cutting remarks to Anders throughout the night. At one point they had both risen to their feet to fight about whose turn it was to make a run to the bar, of all things. It was one of the worst nights Anders had spent in his life. Fenris and Aedan were angry with him and he had lost a fair amount of coin as well.

To be fair, his day hadn't started out well either, and he should have taken that as a sign to stay indoors and keep his mouth shut.

He wrenched his lips away from the rough kiss. "We're not doing this. So you can just—" His words stopped in his throat as Fenris shoved his hands under Anders' robes, his fingernails scraping along his ribs.

"This isn't going to happen again, is it, Anders?" Fenris murmured into his neck. "Someone needs to take you in hand."

Anders banged the back of his head against the wall. "I'm not a child. I'm—ugh—an adult. I don't need a mind—shit—er."

Strong, long fingers gripped his jaw and pulled his face down to look at glittering, green eyes. "No, if I thought you were a child I would take you over my knee and spank you. Is that what you want, Anders, for me to spank you like a naughty child?"

His ass clenched at the thought and his cock twitched to life in his smalls. "You think I'd let you do that?" His body was saying, 'Yes, please', while he still raged at some of the things Fenris had said to him earlier. "You blame me for something Zevran took upon himself."

"And you encouraged him!" He got right into Anders' face, and his lips peeled back from his teeth. "You drew him a blighted map."

"I didn't see you stopping him, Ser Antidote. You're as much to blame as I am." Fenris was in a dangerous, unpredictable mood, and—Maker, help him—Anders was getting turned on. He could see the raw power and strength barely leashed in Fenris' snapping eyes and in the way his muscles tensed. It was the same way he looked when he was in the midst of battle, when blood lust rode him hard.

Many years ago, Anders use to have this fantasy of Fenris taking him after a particularly hard fight. It would just be the two of them, and Fenris would turn to Anders as the elf stood among the corpses of his enemies,-with that same look in his eyes-blood lust turning into an altogether different beast. He would stalk towards Anders like a predator after its prey, his face blood splattered and his eyes intent on his quarry.

What Anders wouldn't have given to make that a reality. It felt as perverse now as it did then, but Fenris had a way of bringing it out in Anders. There was something about them together that created a perfect storm of love and lust. There was little Anders wouldn't dare with Fenris.

"Do not seek to make me culpable." Anders knew that Fenris was feeling it too, this heady brew of lust and anger. It was in the slightly husky turn of his voice, and the way his lips were a hair's breadth from Anders' own.

"What if I want to?" Anders breathed. He snaked his tongue out and ran it along Fenris' bottom lip. He caught the elf's lip in his teeth and tugged slightly on it before releasing it. "What are you going to do about it?" Anders hadn't realized it until this very moment just how badly he wanted Fenris to punish him. He needed it as badly as the Hanged Man needed new flooring. He wanted Fenris to master him completely and teach Anders a lesson he would be remembering for days. It wasn't that he was weak,-Fenris didn't see him that way-but in this room, in this moment, Anders would take anything that Fenris dished out. How they acted outside of the bedchamber was another matter.

Fenris hissed in a breath through his teeth at the challenge. "I'd make sure you never do something so stupid again." Anders was so close that he could see the way Fenris' pupils were enlarged, swallowing the irises and turning his eyes black.

"Yeah…" Anders urged. "How would you do that? I would need a strong lesson, and I need to be certain you're up for the job."

The answering growl that Fenris gave him did something funny to Anders and he could feel his cock aching, impossibly hard in his smalls. "You're certain of that?" For the first time, a small amount of hesitation appeared in Fenris' eyes. "Be careful of what you are asking, mage."

It was then that Anders did something he would never have dared to do a year ago. It was so audacious, that afterwards, he would wonder what had come over him. He just wanted to wipe that hesitation from his face. "I know what I'm asking for… slave."

Fenris' breathing hitched. His eyes grew wide and then narrowed in anger. "I am not a slave."

"Prove it," Anders taunted. His head snapped to the side, the slap so quick he hadn't seen it coming until pain bloomed on his face. He rolled his eyes to his lover to see the fierce expression on Fenris' face.

Fenris grab him by the front of his robes, and jerked him towards the bed. His robes tore, and the sound of ripping fabric sounded like thunder in the room. "You want me to prove it?" Fenris pushed him and the backs of his knees hit the bed and he fell backwards onto the mattress. The elf was on him, his hands grabbing Anders' collar and ripping his robes down the center, finishing the job and shredding the fine material.

"You're going to have to buy me new robes," Anders panted. Part of his cheek had gone numb, and he was sure there would be a red imprint of Fenris' palm there.

"We'll go tomorrow." He roughly rolled Anders over until he was on his stomach and pulled what remained of his clothes off his body, tossing them off the bed. Placing a hand on the back of Anders' skull, he pressed his face into the mattress.

Anders couldn't see anything, and he had to turn his head slightly so he was able to breath. Fenris' nails dug into his scalp painfully, keeping him in place. He yelped when Fenris smacked his hand against his ass, and gasped when he did it again. Fenris laid into him, his hand slapping first one cheek, then anther in rapid succession. He gave no warning and no build up, just blows that quickly numbed his ass and had Anders writhing under him.

Panting, Anders rutted into the sheets. With each blow Anders rolled his hips to get away, only to trap his cock between his body and the bed, creating a delicious pressure. He would then raise his ass again in a silent entreaty for more, his voice going from yelps to moans of pleasure. His hands scrabbled against the sheets for purchase, seeking some sort of anchor in the storm of conflicting sensations.

"You like this, don't you, mage?" Fenris asked him, his voice guttural. "You like being put in your place. I wonder if the rest of the keep can hear you."

"Stop it," Anders groaned. Maker, he was close to coming. He couldn't handle the things Fenris was saying to him in _that _voice.

Fenris knew it too. "Do you think they'll know when you can't sit down for a week? Do you think they'll whisper to each other what a depraved whore you are, getting off on being spanked like a naughty child?"

Blessedly the spanking stopped and Anders lay shuddering on the bed. He lifted his hips and spread his legs shamelessly. "Fuck me. Please just fuck me, Fenris." Andraste's underthings, he needed to be fucked. "I need your cock. I need it so bad. Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it. Please fuck me." He was so close. All he had to do was slide a hand down to his erection and it would be all over. He began to shake, his ass on fire as the endorphins started to fade from his system.

Fenris removed his hand from the back of Anders' head. "Stay there, exactly like that." The bed shook and Anders knew that Fenris had slipped off of it. He turned his head and pressed his forehead into the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut. He could hear Fenris getting undressed and could just picture it. Each removal of clothing would reveal more and more of olive skin. Anders' hands clenched into the sheets, as he imagined tracing each and every indentation of Fenris' lean muscles. The bed dipped and Anders gasped as Fenris smacked him once on his sensitive ass.

He felt a slick cock probing his entrance, and sliding along the crack of his ass. "You want this?"

"Maker, yes…" Anders tried to back up into it, but Fenris placed a hand in between his shoulder blades, forcing him down and stilling his movements.

"Have you earned it?" Fenris asked. He tangled his fingers into Anders' hair and jerked his head back sharply. The angle was painful and Anders choked as his neck was arched back almost too far. "Are you sorry?"

Anders was reduced to babbling, saying anything he could think of to get Fenris to finish it. "I'm sorry. I won't do anything like that again. I'll listen to you and others from now on. Please. I'm sorry, just fuck me. I want your cock."

Fenris leaned over him and whispered into his ear. "I'm sorry too." He shoved himself inside so abruptly, that Anders screamed at the intrusion. It wasn't that it was too painful,—it was just on this side of it since Fenris had used elfroot extract on himself—it was just the relief he felt at finally being filled.

His anal muscles stretched and burned. Fenris had never taken him like this before, and at first Anders' body fought it. Fenris didn't give him any time to adjust before he began pounding into the mage. With his head pulled back and Fenris pinning him down, Anders could do nothing but take it, his voice coming out in grunts and groans with each harsh thrust into his body.

Fenris slapped him on the ass, and Anders' clenched his cheeks at the pain, tightening around the cock inside him. "You do like it, don't you?" Fenris panted. "Tell me how much you love it."

Anders' eyes were closed and his mouth hung slack in bliss. "I love it. Give—guh-it to me, Fenris. Fucking—yes, harder-give it to me." Fenris was taking Anders somewhere he had never gone before. His brain had shorted out some time ago and now he rode out the sensations of his body, following wherever Fenris wanted to lead.

With each slap of Fenris' hips against his burning ass, Anders felt a new wave of pain shoot up his spine. It was perverse and debauched and Anders loved every minute of it. People might say that there was something wrong with him that he was getting off on being used by his lover like this.

People were idiots.

Anders' body shook and he was having a hard time keeping himself on his knees. He braced himself against the sheets as Fenris' thrusts became more insistent and erratic. He could hear the elf's harsh breathing above him and Anders could feel his balls drawing up tight. "I'm going to come," he rasped out.

Fenris leaned down and set his lips against Anders' shoulder. "Do it," he whispered, and sank his teeth into the mage's skin.

Crying out, Anders came, shooting semen on the sheets. The pain of his body coupled with his orgasm had his eyes rolling in his head and his legs finally giving out. He collapsed on the bed, smearing cum on himself.

Fenris reared back on his knees and gripped Anders by the hips and pulled them up. His thrusts became rapid fire as he chased his own climax, grunting from the effort. With a few short, hard strokes he stilled inside the mage as his cock twitched, emptying himself with Anders' name on his lips. He fell forward and stopped himself from crushing Anders by slapping his palms on the sheets.

Neither one of them said a word. An awkward silence fell over the room, punctuated by their heavy breathing. Anders was the first to speak. He rolled over and winced when his ass touched what was supposed to be soft sheets, but felt as rough as cheap linen.

He looked up at Fenris and touched his cheek. "Love you."

Fenris sighed and lowered himself to his elbows, headless of the mess on the mage's abdomen. He returned Anders' gesture and touched his injured face. "I hope I did not go too far."

Raising an eyebrow, Anders laughed. "Love, although we won't be doing this often, I can say without a doubt that you did not go too far."

Fenris' lips twitched into a small smile. "You still have to apologize to Aedan."

"Not in the same way, I hope." Anders looked scandalized. "I mean, have you seen that man naked? He would break me in half. I don't know how Zevran does it."

"No I have not seen him naked, and I do not wish to know anything about it." Fenris scowled. "When did you see him nude?"

Anders scratched his head and winced when his fingers touched a sore spot on his scalp. "Uh… Didn't I tell you? It was when the Architect captured us."

"No. You did not inform me of this." He held up his hand when Anders opened his mouth. "Do not tell me anything more, I beg you. The last thing I want right now is to hear speculation from you about the commander's prowess in bed."

Anders snapped his mouth shut.


	41. Chapter 41

To everyone that has read, reviewed, and put this story on their alerts, THANK YOU!

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><p>"I can't believe I'm sitting here," Anders muttered. He knelt on the floor in front of a pew, and his hands were clasped in front of him as if in prayer. Next to him knelt Fenris and Denerou, the later trying to stifle his laughter at Anders words.<p>

"I mean really," he said out of the side of his mouth. "You would think the Maker would just strike me dead for even stepping foot in here again." Kneeling in front of the pew before them, were Aedan, Zevran, Marian and Cullen. Markum, Sandor and Oghren were behind Anders.

Cullen had come the afternoon before full of rage and accusations. He knew that one of them had something to do with Merrill's disappearance, but could prove nothing. Anders and the other wardens had been seen coming in and out of Varric's room all night, and Aedan had even made a spectacle of himself by vomiting in the middle of the Hanged Man common room. Zevran had been pleased to see how drunk Aedan was, citing that it would make things much easier for him.

Since neither Aedan nor Zevran had said a word the following day, and Zevran had a smile on his face, Anders tended to believe that the assassin knew what he was about.

Cullen had to leave the Viscount's Keep empty handed, but Anders thought the man privately was a bit relived not have Merrill be his problem anymore, even if he wouldn't admit to it. Merrill was on her way on Isabela's ship to Amaranthine. From there the two women would travel to Vigil's Keep where Merrill was to present a letter to Nate explaining that she needed a place to stay until Wynn could be contacted. Hawke hadn't been too pleased that she hadn't been able to tell Merrill good bye, but Anders reminded her that she would just have another person to write to, and if she was dead then Hawke wouldn't be able to speak to her at all.

After Cullen had left, Aedan had gathered the wardens together in his room to let them in on something that Zevran had found out. It didn't surprise Anders that the Chantry disapproved of what he and Wynn were doing, but it still disappointed him all the same. Throughout his life and his merging with Justice, Anders had seen enough to convince him of the reality of the Maker. It was the stewards of his house that Anders had a problem with.

Aedan had informed them that they would be going to services the next morning and be to be ready at dawn—in uniform. For all intents and purposes, this would be somewhat of an official event—the Warden-Commander going to services in Kirkwall with his men. Aedan thought it best-and Anders actually agreed with him-not to let anyone else know of what Zevran had overheard. He didn't want Hawke to get involved. What Anders was doing was mage business, but if the Chantry wanted to get involved and threaten one of his men, then Aeden would make it warden business as well.

"Oh, Maker." Anders prayed just loud enough for Fenris and Denerou to hear him. "Please show your servants how narrow minded they are in interpreting your wisdom. Please shine your glorious light in their dim skulls, so they may see what idiots they are. For thou art loving, and your bride couldn't have been such an imbecile to mean to imprison mages for the gift you gave them. I pray unto you, grant me the strength to sit through this service without setting aflame one of your sons or daughters, for their words doth offend me at times. Gran—" He yelped when Fenris pinched him on his side.

Fenris leaned over and whispered harshly in his ear. "Can't you take this seriously?" On the dais above them, the Grand Cleric was droning on passionately. Denerou bent over and shoved his clasped hands into his mouth, his body shaking with mirth. The elf was dark eyed and dark haired with the strands pulled up high on his head in a ponytail. He had the markings of the dalish on his face. When the blight was over, he had come searching for Aedan and the chance to become a warden. He wasn't one to make jokes, but he was one to easily laugh at them.

He was also deadly with his bow, and to hear the wardens that had seen both Fenris and him in action, the two of them cut through darkspawn as if they were nothing, working in fluid grace.

Anders was glad he had healed the poor abused muscles in his body the day before. There was no way he could have knelt for so long with his ass black and blue. He had forgotten about it in the chaos of Cullen storming into the keep looking for him, but he'd had a sharp reminder when he had sat down after the templar had left and immediately shot back up again. No one else had noticed but Zevran, of course. The assassin had given Anders a knowing, sly smile that had sent his ears to burning.

"I will take it seriously when they take me seriously," Anders whispered back. He glanced up at Cullen and Aedan and wondered how the two men could handle kneeling for so long in full plate.

"They are taking you seriously, or have you forgotten why we are here?" Fenris pulled back and closed his eyes, effectively shutting out any response Anders could give. They had discussed Fenris' belief in the Maker before, and Anders still wasn't quite sure where the elf stood. All he had said was that the Maker had done nothing for him as a slave, but Anders knew there was more to it than that. Fenris was a conduit where the living could go to the Black City, he had experienced things in the Fade that very few ever could. If that didn't give one at least a little understanding of the Maker existence or some higher power, then Anders didn't know what would.

The Grand Cleric started a prayer and Anders dutifully followed. When you were raised in the circle, the Chants of Light were drummed into you the moment you could speak. "Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just." It was Benediction four, verse ten, and Anders knew it had been picked out just especially for the Hero of Ferelden.

Elthina led them all in a closing prayer before ending the service. Anders got gratefully to his feet, his knees popping as he stood. When he was a teenager, Anders had the responsibility of lighting all of the candles in the circle chantry before service. He had loved it. It had been so much better than sitting through yet another sermon on why mages were imprisoned for the good of Thedas. When you light the candles, you sat off to the side in an alcove. Anders could let his mind wander until it was time to snuff them out when service was over. That had lasted a year until he was found sleeping in his chair. He had been pulled off duty and was made to sit with the mages for the rest of his time there.

Aedan glanced at Markum and Sandor and jerked his head to the other end of the Chantry, where the stairs led up further into the building. They were to slip upstairs unseen in the milling crowd, and report back anything they could find. Anders hadn't wanted to do it. The last time he had been up there had been when he had killed Karl and slaughtered a group of templars. He hadn't been back since, and did not want to revisit the memory any further than he already had to.

Nobles who wanted to dine on the story of how they had talked to the Hero of Ferelden crowded around Aedan. The man looked harried and Anders didn't feel a bit sorry for him. They could have come at a time when services were not in progress. But no, Aedan has insisted on going and making a spectacle of himself. Well he could just deal with the consequences. Zevran wasn't able to extricate Aedan either. The elf was moving through the room, his sharp eyes searching for the man and the woman he had seen in the tunnels. Zevran assumed that someone as devout as the man had seemed to be, wouldn't miss a chance for services led by the Grand Cleric herself.

Denerou and Fenris were to stay by Anders' side. There had been no mention of an attack on the mage while he was in Kirkwall, but Fenris and Aedan said that they couldn't be too careful.

Fenris gripped Anders' arm, the claw tips of his gauntlet scraping the skin on his wrist. "You should speak with the Grand Cleric. Hawke told me that she and the Prince of Starkhaven are great friends. Maybe she could give you some insight on which way he will lean towards your proposals." Fenris didn't like the way the crowd was jostling them to get closer to Aedan. The area around the Grand Cleric was freer. She had her back to a wall and was not standing in the middle of the room like they were.

Besides, if they came for Anders in the chantry, would they dare to do it in front of the Grand Cleric? Fenris and Anders didn't think she had anything to do with this plot to hinder or harm Anders. Fenris had dealt with her in the past with Hawke, and she had never come across as someone that would countenance such deeds.

That's not to say that Fenris could be wrong.

The three of them wove through the crowd towards Elthina, leaving Aedan alone. Anders looked over his shoulder and shot his commander a mocking look, and the expression he got in return promised retribution. It wasn't Anders fault that Aedan was a legend. The man had stopped a blight in a year. It was unheard of.

As they approached Elthina, Anders could feel trepidation creeping along his skin. He had always declined to come with Hawke whenever she had to speak to the Grand Cleric. There was thumbing your nose at the templars and the chantry by helping mages escape, and then there was waltzing right into the Maker's house and speaking to his anointed daughter like he wasn't a known apostate of Darktown, one that healed the poor for free when the chantry turned them away for lack of funds.

It had felt wrong then, and it felt wrong now.

Okay, so maybe the lessons in spiritual matters from his youth had stuck more than he had thought it had. He glanced up at the gigantic statue of Andraste as they walked passed it. He had blithely told Aedan once that she was quite a looker. Now she seemed to be following his movements with her eyes, and was looking down on him with condemnation.

_If you hadn't opened your big mouth about mages we wouldn't be having our disagreement_, he told her silently. _This isn't my fault, so you can stop looking at me like that. Let's just agree to disagree, alright? Then can you tell some of your devout to stop trying to kill me? I would appreciate that._

They stopped in front of Elthina and the woman gave them a welcoming smile. "You are the wardens who came with the Hero I take it?" It was a formality, she knew quite well who they were, even if they weren't wearing Grey Warden tabards. One didn't become Grand Cleric by being stupid.

Fenris took it upon himself to introduce them, and pleasantries were exchanged all around before an awkward silence fell. Anders didn't know what to say to her. Or, he did know, but he thought peppering her with accusations about a plot to kill him might not go over well.

It was Elthina who broke the silence. "I remember you," she said as she looked at Fenris. "You would come with Viscount Hawke when she needed to see me." She clasped her hands in front of her. "I hadn't seen you for quite some time, and had wondered what had happened to you. I see you are a warden now."

Fenris gave her a slight bow and Anders envied his ability to do so. If Anders had tried to be courtly he would just look a fool. "I left Kirkwall over a year ago to become a warden. I am pleased you remember me."

Elthina gave a warm laugh. "I confess, I could not forget. You look very distinctive, if you do not mind me saying so."

"I do not mind. I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge that I do look somewhat strange." Fenris gave her another small bow and Anders could feel his mouth gaping open. He snapped it shut and shoved his hands into the sleeves of his robes. Maybe he should just have Fenris talk to the circles and the templars for him. He would do it a blighted sight better than Anders could.

Elthina laughed again, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "I am glad to see that you are well and prospering. The wardens do all of Thedas a service."

"I thank you." Fenris nodded towards Anders. "My fellow warden would like to ask you a question if that is alright."

Elthina turned her stormy grey eyes on Anders expectantly, and the mage felt pinned by her gaze. "I… I was wondering what you could tell me about the Prince of Starkhaven. We're to leave tomorrow to see him, and I wanted to know…" He faltered when Elthina's lips turned down.

"I cannot betray confidences, so you will have to be more specific in what you are asking of me." Her eyes became hard, and Anders could see the woman who had braved chantry politics to become Grand Cleric.

Anders held up his hands in supplication. "No. No, I'm not asking that. I was just wondering what the status was of the circle in Starkhaven. I know that it is being rebuilt and would like to discuss some proposals with him. I am working with another mage to bring about small changes in how the circles are run."

Elthina's face cleared, but her eyes were still guarded. "You are the one… I did not realize you were a warden. I had heard you were the aposate that had opened the free clinic in Darktown. I am sorry if I was mistaken."

Swallowing his dread, Anders shook his head. "You're not wrong. That was me." She couldn't do anything to him, right? The clinic was closed and he hadn't been active in the mage underground for a very long time.

"Ah…" she said, and Anders felt himself tense. "Then let me give you some advice. If you go to Sebastian Vael with words of sedition against the chantry, you will find the doors to Starkhaven bolted after he has kicked you out. Sebastian has ever been one for debate on chantry law, he has found the views of others to be a learning experience, since we do not all see the Maker in the same way. But if you say the things to him that you said to the Knight-Commander, you will find his ears and mind closed to you. Temper your impulse to force others into your way of thinking, and you will discover that the Prince of Starkhaven can be made to see change."

For a moment, Anders had the strange urge to tell Fenris that the Maker did listen, even to prayers said in jest. "I… How do you know what I said to Cullen?"

"He came to me for council shortly after you left the Gallows that day. What we spoke of is private, but what will work on him, will not work on Sebastian."

"Why would you help me?" Elthina was being too forthcoming, and the information she just gave him would help a cause that the chantry frowned upon.

"I have seen enough strife in the circles. If changes can be made without conflict, then I approve." She raised her eyebrows at him, and Anders knew his face must have the incredulity on it that he was feeling. "Do not be so surprised. I know that some in Kirkwall see me as ineffectual, but I see it as letting the people do what they may. I will guide those that come to me, but I will not browbeat them into it.

"I once helped a brother to escape the chantry when I saw he did not wish to be there. I told him that he should only come through the front door and not the back. I gave him money and clothes when he left. He came back to me within a week, that time through the front door and of his own volition, his faith strong and true. Do not forget that sometimes, you have to let people come to their own conclusions."

Her words hit Anders like a blow. She was right. He needed to allow people to see the needs of the circle and his proposals without forcing it on them. It was human nature to fight when pressed, and no change could be a good one if the one doing it felt as if they had no choice in the matter.

He wished he had come here with Hawke all those years ago.

What Justice would have made of Elthina, he didn't know. He felt her words all the way to his soul, lodging inside and spreading out to give him new confidence in his goal. If the Grand Cleric in Kirkwall could see the merit of what he and Wynn were trying to do, then maybe there were others.

The thought of why they were really there cut through his revelations, turning them sour.

Just because there was one person in the chantry that saw good in circle reform, didn't mean that the Divine herself wasn't behind a plot to kill Anders. He felt his face close off. "I'll think on your words."

"Good and here comes your commander now, free from his admirers."

Anders turned to see Aedan hurrying towards them. He looked beleaguered, and he kept glancing over his shoulder to the crowd behind him. "Maker,—sorry Grand Cleric—but that was a little much."

"I'm afraid you've become something of a legend, Warden-Commander. We have our Champion of Kirkwall, but few here have ever seen the Hero of Ferelden." Elthina gave Aedan an amused smile.

"I'm sorry I cannot stay longer, Grand Cleric, but we must go. We're leaving tomorrow for Starkhaven and there are preparations to be made." Aedan gave Elthina a bow that made Fenris' look clumsy in comparison. Noble born… Aedan had literally been bred to make things like that so artless looking, even in plate armor.

Too bad it didn't extend to his words.

He turned around and motioned to the other wardens. Markum and Sandor had already slipped back downstairs. "Fuck it's hot in here. I think it's all these blighted candles."

There it was. Usually when people got to see what Aedan was really like their faces fell as their illusions shattered. Aedan wasn't the knight that had rode in on a white horse with his armor gleaming to save Ferelden and all of Thedas. He was Aedan Cousland, second son, who liked to fuck his blonde assassin and kill darkspawn.

Elthina didn't look crestfallen, and it surprised Anders. "Well then," she said, ignoring the curse. "I must be going as well. I have afternoon services to prepare for. It was lovely meeting all of you, Have a good journey and give Sebastian my regards. I think the two of you will find you have a bit in common, Warden-Commander. May the Maker watch over you and the duty the Grey Wardens perform."

Without a backwards glance, Aedan strode towards the exit, the wardens gathering and following in his wake. He ignored the nobles that tried one last time to speak to him, brushing by them rudely. He didn't have to hobnob with them, his part in the charade over.

He stopped when they had cleared the chantry courtyard and turned down a side street. "Please tell me you found something, and I didn't get propositioned by a noble and his wife for nothing."

"I found out that the nobles in Kirkwall are arses the same in Ferelden," Oghren groused.

"I could have told you that." Aedan looked at the others expectantly. "Well?"

Zevran spoke first. "The man and woman have both left. The woman's name is Lizette, and she came here a week before we did from Nevarra. I am not mistaken that she is from Orlais, but that does not mean that she came directly from there, no? I found a maid who was _very_ forthcoming. She did not know who the man was, only that he would come for services frequently. They were seen together last night, and Lizette packed her bags and left in a hurry with him. The maid was told that her bed was to be made ready for another, as the sister would not be returning."

"Not too forthcoming I hope," Aedan warned.

With a chuckle, Zevran slipped an arm around Aedan's waist. "No, my warden, I was very good."

"That coincides with what Sandor and I found." Markum reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a partially burnt piece of parchment. Markum was grey and balding, and sported a beard to rival Oghren's. He was gruff, large and could wield his massive hammer as if it were the lightest staff. Anders had heard rumors that Markum had been conscripted from the jail in Denerim. "Looks like she wasn't too careful and didn't make sure it was destroyed completely."

Aedan took the parchment and unfolded it. His eyes moved rapidly as he scanned the contents. "Says here that a sister named Margret is waiting in Starkhaven for further instructions." He passed it to Fenris. "It's not signed. But we have the name of the contact in Starkhaven now."

Fenris scanned it, his lips moving as he read. It was a habit he had a hard time banishing. It came from having to read out loud in order for Anders to hear if he was putting the letters together correctly. Fenris gave the missive to Anders and started pacing. "We cannot spend the rest of the journey to Weisshaupt wondering if someone is going to come out of the shadows and strike at Anders."

"We won't be," Aedan assured him. "We'll find this Margret and get her to talk. I won't have this hanging over our heads along with what might happen in Weisshaupt. We'll end it in Starkhaven, one way or another."


	42. Chapter 42

Thanks for reading everyone!

A/N: Contrary to what I had hoped, life is still a little hectic. I'm sorry the updates have been slow.

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><p>You could say several things about Sebastian Vael. You could talk about how he carried himself with confidence. You could point out his good looks, and his accent which had sent more than one heart fluttering. You could mention his devotion to the chantry and Starkhaven. You could repeat the rumors of his misspent youth, and how he had ran wild. There were so many different sides to Sebastian Vael, and to know only one was to not know him at all.<p>

Anders zeroed in on none of these things at their first meeting.

"Is that Andraste on your crotch?" To be fair, it had been a long journey from Kirkwall and they had only just arrived. Saying good bye to his friends had been no easier than the first time around. Marian had cried against his shoulder as they hugged. He had promised her he would come and visit again, if that was even a possibility.

Anders wondered if what he was doing with the circles was going to be a waste of time in the end. There was Weisshaupt to contend with. Anders wasn't going to let anything happen to Fenris. The wardens could go to the Void for all he cared. He stayed because Vigil's Keep was a safe place for him and Fenris. If Weisshaupt threatened that… Well… Anders and Fenris had a knack for escaping and disappearing into the world. This time there would be no Justice to force Anders out into the open. Aedan would never find Anders again.

They had ridden for almost two horrible weeks. It was something that Anders still wasn't use to, especially with the hard pace that Aedan had set. He hadn't liked being out in the open and vulnerable to ambushes. He had ignored Anders when the mage had pointed out that they were hurrying towards danger and maybe the open road was safer.

When they had arrived in the City of Starkhaven, Anders couldn't keep his eyes off of all the activity around him. They passed by a bustling market, where vendors hawked their wares, crying out to passersby that here were the best items to be had, and wouldn't you just love to have such craftsmanship? Farmers hauled their produce into the city in laden down carts, pulled by large draft horses. Everywhere Anders looked he saw prosperity. He saw very little poor, or if they were, they didn't look it. Maybe they were hidden like in Kirkwall. Living in Darktown all those years had jaded him.

On a hill overlooking it all, was a castle. It was the kind that you would read about in tales, but knew that nothing like it could ever be based in reality. But this was all too real. It was gleaming and white, with the banners of the Princes of Starkhaven fluttering in the breeze.

He could see why Varric had called Starkhaven pretentious. This was almost too much. He had heard that Starkhaven was a rich principality, but he had never imagined it was anything like what he was seeing.

Anders' nerves had flared to life.

It got worse when they had arrived at the castle gates to find that the man himself was waiting with a retinue of guards. His armor was as white as his castle, making his eyes appear more piercing and blue. The wardens had stopped and dismounted and that's when Anders had to open his mouth.

"The Maker's bride," Anders repeated when all he received in response was an incredulous look. "That's her on your crotch, correct?"

To give the man credit, he did nothing more than blink a few times before replying with diplomatic aplomb. "It is. My father had it commissioned for me to commemorate my entry into the chantry." Ignoring the way his knights shifted in unease as he walked by them, Sebastian drew closer to the wardens. "But I daresay that it is higher than my crotch, unless you are suggesting that my crotch extends above where it would normally be found."

Aedan barked in laughter and held out his hand. "Prince Vael, I'm Warden-Commander Aedan Cousland. Please excuse Anders. He's been a little testy since we left Kirkwall. Doesn't like riding, I fear." Everyone watched ardently to see what the prince would do. Aedan didn't meet with anyone with a higher title than an arl in Ferelden. King Alistair was one of his good friends, and Aedan was responsible for putting him on his throne-alive and whole. If Alistair even thought to suggest that Aedan kowtow to him, Aedan would have smacked him on the back of his head and called him an idiot—after he laughed himself hoarse.

It was only because of the tension in the air from the wardens and the guards as Prince Vael glanced at Aedan's extended hand, that Anders kept his mouth shut. Testy? He wasn't testy. Andraste was staring _right _at him. He was just saying what they were all thinking, and Aedan knew it.

When Vael took Aedan's hand and shook it, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. Anders felt a light tug on his sleeve and he glanced to his right to see Fenris. The elf motioned with his finger and Anders leaned down so Fenris could whisper in his ear while Aedan and Sebastian spoke. "I don't like the way the guards are looking at us. Something isn't right. They did not appreciate it when he left their side."

"Noticed that too, huh? Make sure the others know." Anders glanced at Aedan and Vael in his periphery. The two of them were talking amiably while stable hands were pouring out of the castle to take their horses. He slid a quick glance at the guards, his eyes slipping over them quickly. There was no mistake-they did not want the wardens here. The guards were eyeing them with barely concealed hostility, their hands on the hilts of their swords. Anders had no doubt that one wrong move would send one—or all—of the guards to attack.

Sebastian clapped his hands and startled Anders out of his thoughts. "Well, I am sure that you have had a long journey, and would like to freshen up and rest before dinner. I am told that the cook has prepared a feast." Either the prince was good at dissembling, or he truly did not feel the tension of his guards. Anders didn't know. But something inside him eased at Sebastian's jovial tone. Maybe there was nothing sinister here and the guards were just vigilant in their duty. The wardens lived a life that called for suspicion. You never knew what was around the next bend in the Deep Roads-taint or not. It could just be he and Fenris were seeing something that wasn't there.

"Don't worry, I won't subject you to a large gathering-yet," Sebastian said, correctly reading some of the dismay on their faces. "It will just be us tonight." He turned and started to lead them into the castle, and his guards closing ranks behind him, inserting themselves between their prince and the wardens.

Vael stopped and threw over his shoulder, "Oh, and my fiancée Margret. She's been wanting to meet all of you and I could not tell her no."

Or maybe they weren't as paranoid as Anders thought.

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><p>"We should leave." Fenris paced back and forth in Aedan's room, where he and the other wardens had gathered. Zevran was off exploring the castle and to find out what he could about this Margret. "We should be gone from this place before we are summoned for supper."<p>

"That would be a mistake," Denerou pointed out. "We risk offending the prince."

Fenris whirled on him. "And we risk Anders by staying. When she was a sister in the chantry that was one thing, but now she has the cock of the Prince of Starkhaven—our host—firmly in her grasp. There is something deep at play here, and I do not like it."

Aedan lay back on his bed, his arms behind his head. He stared at the ceiling above him, his eyebrows drawn down in thought. "No one likes it. But we are trapped now and have to play her game. If it is the same person, then we need to know why she has insinuated herself in Starkhaven. She cannot be part of the chantry and still marry."

Oghren had passed out on Aedan's bed the moment he had entered the room and was snoring blissfully through the noise.

"It could be a coincidence," Anders suggested. He sat on the end of the bed and leaned against one of the massive oak posts that jutted out from each corner.

"Since when do coincidences like that happen to us?" Fenris had resumed his circuit around the room. "We shouldn't have come."

"Sure, love," Anders said wearily. "Let's just hurry to Weisshaupt. That is _so_ much better." Markum and Sandor hadn't said a word. Intrigue wasn't something that they excelled at. Point them at a darkspawn and they wouldn't hesitate. Tell them they had to figure out the social maneuverings of the Orlesian court and they would run screaming to the nearest entrance into the Deep Roads.

Denerou, Fenris thought, looked like he was enjoying himself. The other elf had once confided to Fenris that he had left the dalish in order to see the world outside of his people. He had met Aedan during the blight, and the man had opened his eyes. Coming to the Free Marches was exactly the kind of thing he had wanted to do.

"We'll see what happens tonight and what Zev finds." Aedan yawned. All of them had only been able to take the time for a hurried bath before meeting in Aedan's room. They were tired, hungry and—in Anders' case—a little saddle weary. "If this is a chantry plot to control the Free Marches, then it isn't a bad one. Get a devout sister to cozy up to the equally devout prince, they marry and the chantry has two powerful mouth pieces. It's very well done if you think about it."

Anders widened his eyes. "Oh, well then, I guess we shouldn't worry about the killing me part. I mean if she is to be a princess all in the name of the Maker, then who are we to judge? Maybe we could go to services together. Wouldn't that be fun? We could go and kneel and pray with all of our fervent hearts that she doesn't stick a knife in me. We'll just let the chantry get a foothold into the Free Marches the same way they have in Orlais. Business as usual, right?"

"Exactly." Aedan's voice was so abrupt that everyone stopped and looked at him. "If that is what's happening, then we move on. If I'm right, you won't have a chance in the Void of convincing him to go against the chantry when it comes to circle reform. His fiancée is or was a sister. She will whisper in his ear that anything you say is blasphemous, and we will be out on our ear. If he listens to you, then you will be dead. We would be better off letting the chantry do what it wants with Starkhaven. It has nothing to do with you or the wardens."

Anders blinked. "Excuse me? You can't mean that. If they can do it here, they will try for other countries next. Ferelden… King Alistair hasn't taken a wife."

A muscle in Aedan's jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth. "I know that. But this is all supposition. We will know nothing until tonight." Fenris agreed with Aedan. He knew that Anders would never see it that way, but the wardens could not be seen taking sides. Anders was already treading a thin line working with Wynn the way he was. If they disrupted the chantry's plans for Starkhaven, who knew how they would retaliate.

"My warden, am I a bad influence on you? That was a well thought out plot." Fenris stopped his pacing when Zevran spoke. He hadn't heard the elf come into the room. Sometimes, Fenris thought he did it to watch people shriek in startled surprise when he made his presence known. Most of the wardens in the keep were used to it by now, so none of them so much as even twitched.

"'Always," Aedan answered as he sat up. "What did you find?"

"Margret met Sebastian Vael six months ago. No one knows where she came from, but there is speculation that she was once in the chantry. She gives the appearance of being devout, even to the point of going to the Vael family's private chantry once a day—alone. I suspect that when she goes, she is not praying to the Maker. I will follow her tomorrow and see what she does while she is there."

Fenris frowned. "If no one knows where she came from, how are the nobles not up in arms over a nobody engaged to their prince?"

"Ah!" Zevran clapped his hands in approval. "You have come upon it, my friend. Only a few of the castle staff and guards know of the engagement, and they have been sworn to secrecy. The nobles do not yet know. Something I would think was romantic in another time, yes? Now you ask me why they keep it secret."

Fenris rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. The assassin could talk in circles if they let him. It was sometimes better to play his game if you wanted to know something from him. "Why are they keeping it secret?" he asked dutifully.

"Because they are waiting for a special disposition from the Divine herself. If they have that, then they can have no objections from the nobles about her origins." Zevran's eyes were alight from the excitement of ferreting out secrets.

"And they are…" Fenris urged him. Zevran could try his patience more than Anders at times.

"I do not know," Zevran shrugged. "But it is something worth the trouble they are going through. Give me time, I will find out."

"We don't have time." Aedan yawned again and got to his feet. "Anders was going to talk to him tomorrow afternoon. We need to know what's happening first." He sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Why did I leave the keep again?" he muttered.

"Don't worry." Zevran strode over to him and slipped an arm around his waist, reassuring him. "Maybe we find bandits on the road to Weisshaupt and you can kill many to save me. I could get captured by one and you could rescue me in a showing of your martial prowess, yes?"

"Oh, bandits!" Anders mocked. "Yes, let's hope for banality of bandits."


	43. Chapter 43

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

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><p>There was no doubt that Lady Margret was beautiful. Her rich red hair—so common in Starkhaven-was piled artfully on her head in cascading curls that must have taken her maid at least an hour to create. She had wide, guileless blue eyes, framed by elegantly arching eyebrows. Her fair skin was free of the freckles that usually plagued those with red hair,—denoting a lifetime not spent in the sun- and her lips were rouged with a light touch.<p>

Fenris had to give her maid credit. Whatever she was being paid, it wasn't nearly enough considering the skill it must have taken to dress her mistress to such perfection. Her dress was modest and provocative at the same time. It was a light peach and covered her in all the correct places, from her throat to her wrists, but it was also tight and fit like a second skin. Fenris wondered if she'd had to be sewn into it.

She had said and done all of the correct things when the wardens had come down for dinner. She had curtsied prettily, her large eyes shining with interest as they were introduced. When the prince spoke, she fell silent, and deferred to him.

She was beautiful, graceful, and submissive. From all appearances, she was the perfect woman for someone as noble born as Sebastian was. Fenris could almost see the gorgeous blue eyed, red haired babies the two of them would make together.

But something about her was off.

As Zevran amused the prince with a tale, embarrassing Aedan in the process, Fenris watched the woman from under his lashes while he ate his soup. If Anders had thought the dining hall in the Viscount's Keep was ostentatious, then the one owned by the Prince of Starkhaven was downright decadent. Gold and crystal chandeliers hung every few feet above them as they sat at the largest table Fenris had ever seen. Custom dictated that the guests and host sit in prescribed seats, but with so little of them dining, they had been seated at one end. Windows that ran the length of the right wall reached from floor to ceiling, and were thrown open to let the cool air in, sending the light in the chandlers fluttering in the breeze.

Footmen waited nearby, silent and still. Fenris didn't like them. With their stiff and precise movements, they served the guests, even going so far as to pull out Fenris' chair and lay a napkin on his lap. He had flinched when one had come too close to him. It reminded him too much of when he had been made to serve Danarius and his guests, and he had to tell himself that it was different and they were being paid.

He wondered if the good Lady Margret had once been a whore. Her movements reminded him of them, and-if he was being honest—Zevran. Each touch of her hand on Sebastian arm, each laugh and smile were too perfect—calculated to charm. Fenris would like to think he would still be uneasy with her if he didn't know that something was wrong.

He didn't have Varric or Zevran's knack for reading people, but even he could see the way her eyes tightened slightly when the prince was not looking in her direction. No matter what the topic was, she would do something to pull his attention back to her. It was subtle, and very well done, but she was doing it all the same.

Markum and Sandor were silent during the soup course, both of them uncomfortable. They didn't have a tavern to escape to like they had in Kirkwall. Sandor was wiry, so thin that his face and bald head looked like a skull staring dourly at you. His eyes were constantly darting around him, and Fenris thought that he might have been a thief at one point.

Fenris had never asked.

When the soup course had been cleared and the main course put before them, Sebastian tried to engage Aedan who sat across from him. "Tell me, commander, why are you here in the Free Marches? The wardens in Ansburg are usually quiet, but I would have hoped if something was happening I would have been informed."

"They might not necessarily inform you. Ansburg is small, but I know their group is a tight, close knit unit. If something comes up too large for them to handle then you'll be told, I'm sure. But my business is not in the Free Marches. We head to Weisshaupt in the Anderfels."

"The Grey Warden stronghold?" Sebastian leaned forward, interest written on his face. "I confess, I had given thought to becoming a warden when I was younger and the last blight broke out." He chuckled. "But it was a passing fancy and more to irritate my father than anything else."

Aedan gestured around the room. "And give up all this? That is a very poor exchange."

Slipping his hand under the table, Fenris touched Anders' thigh lightly, feeling how stiff the muscle was from tension. Anders sat next to Fenris with Aedan on his other side and Zevran next to Aedan. Markum, Denerou, Sandor and Oghren were across from them with the prince and Lady Margret. Oghren had gone silent as soon as the main course had come and was tucking into the braised boar. He and Anders were being uncharacteristically quiet, saying only what they had to. For Anders part, he was frightened. Fenris didn't like this subdued Anders. It wasn't like him. He shouldn't have insisted on Anders coming to Weisshaupt, or at least tried to talk him out of speaking to the circles on the way. Anders would have been angry with him, but Fenris would take an enraged Anders over this quiet one any day.

Who knew the day would come when Fenris was wishing for Anders to make an inappropriate joke.

"This is nothing." Sebastian shrugged. "This is not my work, but the work of greater men than I. I took it for granted when I was younger, and then when it was taken from me, I wanted nothing more than to have it back. But when I had it back, I realized how little it really meant." He held up a silver fork inlaid with gold. "This could feed a family for a year. When I regained my throne, I tried to sell off everything to give to the poor. If it wasn't for my advisors and meeting Margret, I might have gotten away with it."

"I had heard that your family had been murdered." Aedan inclined his head, lost for a moment in his own memories. "I'm sorry. I know how it feels to have everything taken from you like that."

"But unlike me, you did not try and take it back." Sebastian sliced into his tender meat and popped a piece into his mouth, chewing slowly. "You did something more. How I wish I could have a small bit of your courage."

Aedan threw back his head and laughed, bringing a small smile to even Fenris' lips. "You're joking. I'm not courageous. If it wasn't for the people that were with me, I would have been dead a long time ago." He nodded towards Oghren. "Like Oghren," he pointed at Zevran, "and Zev. They were with me when I fought the Archdemon and through all the things before." Now it was Anders' turn. "Anders and Oghren were with me when we fought horrors in the Deep Roads, and helped me protect Vigil's Keep when we were overrun. Markum, Sandor, Denerou and Fenris are four of my strongest fighters. They get sent into the deepest and dangerous parts of the Deep Roads, places where no one other than darkspawn have roamed in centuries. They do it without question and come back alive.

"You're only as good as the company you keep. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise. One man can never do everything alone. They are always being propped up by other, greater men." The wardens looked slightly uncomfortable with the praise when Aedan had finished and took a drink of his wine.

Zevran had a grin on his face.

Sebastian slapped a hand on the table, startling Margret. "Exactly! That's my point. Who am I? I am nothing without my people, gold aside. If I am nothing without them, then shouldn't I try and help them as much as they help me? They waited for me to return. Waited… I've never been so humbled in all my life. I had thought that I would find them disappointed that I was not my father or one of my brothers, but that wasn't the case."

"My dear," Margret clasped his arm in both her hands. "Calm yourself. It should not surprise you that they love you. You do so much for them. Starkhaven prospers under your rule. You've expanded and built since you took back your throne." She looked at the rest of the table. "He built a grand chantry in the middle of the city and just a few miles from here the mage circle is being rebuilt.

If anything was guaranteed to get Anders to speak, it was the circle.

"About that… I don't know if you were able to read my letter requesting an audience with you. It should have come with the one from Aedan that was sent from Kirkwall." Now it was Fenris' turn to stiffen. The air in the room turned thick with tension.

Just as he had ignored the tension from his guards, Sebastian acted as if he didn't feel it and glanced at Margret. "I did… I've given what you had to say some thought."

"He's talk about it endlessly," Margret supplied. Her eyes had grown hard, but her face still retained that look of naive sweetness. "It confused me, maybe you could explain. It sounded to me as if you wanted to have the mages in Starkhaven roaming free like apostates." She widened her eyes as if scandalized.

"No!" Anders burst out. "That's not it. I just wanted to put forth some proposals to better a mage's life in the circle. I've already spoken with the Knight-Commander in Kirkwall, and he has agreed to try some changes."

"Kirkwall?" Margret's hands fluttered to her chest. "But didn't the mages there cause a riot, and killed templars and each other alike a year ago? I would have thought that the Knight-Commander wouldn't want a repeat of that. The chantry has decreed that mages belong in the circles. They should be happy with their lot in life. They are looked after and cared for, what more could they need that is not already provided?"

Anders stared at her, dumbfounded. Fenris squeezed Anders' thigh, purposefully digging his nails through his clothes and into the mage's skin, warning him to be silent.

Sebastian prevented Anders from having to speak, turning to his bride to be. "I've told you before, that is not what is being asked. I've prayed on this, and have come to the conclusion that as long as they are in the circle, we can at least give them some measure of comfort while they are there. If Viscount Hawke, the Knight-Commander and Elthina have no objections in Kirkwall, then I see no reason why we cannot try a few things here."

"Viscount Hawke is a mage," Margret whispered, her harsh voice losing some of its dulcet tone. "Are you regretting proposing to me? Maybe you still want to marry her?"

If Fenris thought the tension in the room was thick before, it was nothing compared to how dense it had become. Margret had made a mistake. The proof of it could be seen in the tightening around Sebastian's lips. An awkward silence fell and he could see Anders' mouth hanging open in shock.

Before he began to laugh.

"Hawke? A princess? Does she know about this? Please tell me she doesn't and I can be the one to inform her. Oh, I wish I could see the look on her face. That's just…" Anders trailed off when he saw everyone was staring at him.

Sebastian cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed. "I had been considering it when I gained my throne. But no overtures had been made by the time I had met Margret. I think we have discussed this long enough now. I will hear your proposals tomorrow, Anders. Let tonight not be about work."

He glanced down at Margret and gave her a small smile. "I don't you don't approve, and your faith is one of the many reasons I love you, but this is my decision. I need to do what I feel is best."

The man didn't know what Margret was, Fenris thought. He was either ignorant at the way the smile she gave back to him didn't reach her eyes, or willfully ignoring it. Either way, they were right in their assumption that she was the contact in Starkhaven for Lizette and the man she was with. There could be no mistake. But what that meant though, and what she was doing with the prince, remained to be seen.

Fenris no longer agreed with Aedan that this wasn't warden business. If the chantry was trying to gain control of the ruling families in different countries, and putting their own people in positions of power, then they were all in trouble. If another blight came, would they turn to the wardens, or the chantry instead? The chantry was ill equipped to fight darkspawn, while the wardens had centuries of experience and secrets at their disposal. It would be disastrous.

They would have a harder time in other countries, but as Anders had pointed out, the King of Ferelden was not married, and Fenris knew he had once been a templar. Would he too want a biddable, devout wife who seemed to be made just for him?

Fenris tasted little of the rest of the meal, which went by in a blur. The urge to grab Anders and run from this place, warred with his need to find out what was happening in Starkhaven and why. Aedan and Sebastian did the talking for the others, swapping stories of misspent youth. At one point Zevran got involved, engaging Margret in conversation about the latest styles from Antiva. Fenris knew what the elf was really doing. He could twist words and get the Divine herself to spill her darkest secrets without even knowing she had done it.

Throughout the rest of the meal, Fenris kept his hand on Anders' thigh. He needed the physical connection almost as much as the mage did. Something was wrong in Starkhaven, a taint just under the layers of gold and silk. If he scratched hard enough, he might just be able to reveal what it was.

Then he would cut it out before it infected them all.

It wasn't until the end of the meal, that Fenris had to revise his opinion about the prince. It was when they all got up from the table and said their good nights, that he saw it.

For a brief moment, Sebastian's eyes lost their jovial gleam and became hard, and a little calculating, like he was seeing a puzzle that he was trying to work out. It wasn't when he was looking at any of the wardens. Instead, it was when his gaze landed on Margret while her back was turned as she spoke one last time to Zevran.

Fenris' and Sebastian's eyes met and held, and the prince gave Fenris a short, bow of his head before his face became good-humored once more when Margret turned back to him and slipped her arm through his.

Feeling his mouth go dry, Fenris watched the two of them leave the room, arm in arm, looking for the entire world like they were deeply in love. The prince knew. He knew she wasn't what she seemed. But that begged the question.

If he knew, what was he doing?

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><p>AN: I have always thought that Sebastian was smarter than people in the game gave him credit for.


	44. Chapter 44

To everyone that has read and reviewed, THANK YOU!

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><p>Anders awoke to hands on his mouth and eyes, and a body pinning him to the bed. He jerked, struggling wildly until he heard Fenris' familiar voice whispering urgently into his ear. "Don't move, don't make a sound, and keep your eyes closed." He waited until Anders went still under him before withdrawing his hand from his mouth.<p>

As Anders gasped in air, the metallic scent of blood was dragged in with it. The breath froze in his lungs and he reached up to try and yank Fenris' hand from his eyes, but the elf wouldn't move. "Tell me that's not your blood I smell," he whispered.

"No." Anders heard Fenris swallow audibly. "It's Markum and Sandor. They…" The mage could feel Fenris' hands slightly trembling in rage. "Pieces of them are all over the room and the bed. We're covered in…" He pressed his forehead against Anders' and the mage could hear the grief in Fenris' voice. "We're covered in blood and other… things. I don't want you to see it."

Aedan had decided when they returned to his room after the dinner, that Sandor and Markum would stay with Anders and Fenris, While Denerou and Oghren would share a room with Aedan and Zevran. He had wanted them to be together in case Margret made her move in the night.

Fenris hadn't been the only one to notice the odd way Margret and the prince had acted.

"What happened?" Anders could feel it now that he was fully awake, the way blood seeped into his small clothes and the sheets, and congealed on his skin. Fenris hadn't exaggerated when he said they were covered in it. The elf was sticking to him in a disgusting way, and Anders' flesh crawled with the urge to flee from the room and find the nearest washbasin.

"I don't know. I heard nothing and woke up to find…" Fenris made a sound of distress in the back of his throat. "They deserved to have died with a sword in their hands and facing darkspawn, not to be _butchered_ in their sleep." His voice turned guttural and harsh in his anger. "Their weapons are still in their sheaths with their clothes. We were untouched."

"Aedan!" Anders made to get up, and this time Fenris let him. He kept his hand over Anders' eyes. He didn't want the mage to see what the room looked like. He didn't want Anders' last memory of Markum and Sandor to be the way pieces of them were strung around the room like grotesque festival decorations. Both of them still had nightmares from the macabre scene Danarius had created at the Three Corners inn, Fenris didn't want Anders to have any more.

Their mattress and bedding were soaked in blood, enough of it that Anders' hands squelched sickeningly when he pushed himself upright. He jerked his hands back, his fingers trembling. He knew how much blood it would take to saturate a bed the way this one was.

"Keep your eyes closed. You can open them when we get to the hall." Fenris helped Anders to his feet, both of them stepping on parts of Markum and Sandor that were best left inside and whole. He guided Anders through the room, eschewing clothing for swiftness. At one point, Fenris stepped on what had to be a shard of skull, and he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from crying out.

Fenris' stomach was rolling by the time they made it to the door and out into the hall. He pulled his hand away from Anders' eyes and took in a deep, cleansing breath. He had woken up before Anders like he almost always did to find a grisly scene before him. Both he and Anders were covered in blood, the rapidly cooling liquid staining their hair and plastering the strands to their faces and scalps. Body parts were strewn around the room, and Markum's severed head was staring at him from the foot of the bed in accusation.

Why hadn't they awoken?

"Maker, Fenris," Anders said in horror. "Look at you…"

"There's no time." Fenris grabbed Anders' hand and pulled him away from the door. They left bloody footprints in the hall as they raced for Aedan's room. Fenris had no doubt who was responsible, and the bitch would pay for what she had done.

A maid-up early to start her duties for the day-was the first to see them, and she dropped the linens in her hands and shrieked in terror. As they ran passed her, other servants came out in neighboring rooms to see what the commotion was, a few of them taking up her scream of horror. Hands reached out and tried to stop them, slipping off their arms in the blood covering them. But just as they turned a corner, their luck ran out.

Prince Vael stood in front of Aedan's door with Margret and a retinue of guards. Fenris felt his vision grow as blood red as his skin when he saw her. "You!" Margret screamed when she spied him, and Fenris lunged towards her. He drew his arm back, and his power flared to life, enveloping his hand and arm up to his elbow in iridescent blue light.

Time seemed to slow as several things happened at once. Fenris felt his lips peel back from his teeth in a snarl as he neared the woman, intent on taking her black heart for what she had done. He didn't care how she had done it-all he knew was that she had. After he was through with her, he would turn on the prince next. His crime of allowing this monstrosity to live long enough to kill people Fenris had come to care about, had to be punished. He would kill his bride, and then he would come for Vael-to the Void with the consequences.

Sebastian stepped in front of Margret at the same time his guards drew their swords. Fenris felt a wild, hysterical laughter bubble up inside him. Behind him he could hear Anders yelling for him to stop, but his voice seemed distant next to his need to show the bitch just how shriveled her heart was—up close and in person.

The door to Aedan's room flung open and the commander came barreling out just as Fenris was about to pass him. Time sped up again when Aedan slammed into Fenris, heedless of the danger of the elf's hand. They crashed against the opposite wall, the air forced from Fenris' lungs as his back met the hard, unyielding stone. Aedan had just barely missed impaling himself on Fenris' hand, and the elf reached out over the large man's shoulder, his fingers hooked like the claws he usually wore, as if his fingers were already wrapped around her heart.

"I'll kill you!" Fenris tried to push Aedan off of him, but the bigger man had him pinned tightly to the wall, his arms like steel bands around his waist. Blood smeared on Aedan as Fenris thrashed against him. "You blighted bitch! You killed them! I know it was you!"

"What happened?" Aedan snapped, the authority in his voice just barely penetrating Fenris' rage. When the elf didn't answer, he looked over his shoulder at Anders. "What the fuck happened to the two of you? Where are Markum and Sandor?"

"They're dead…" Anders had his hands behind his back, a spell charged up on his fingers. He kept his eyes on Margret and the guards while he spoke to Aedan. "Fenris and I woke up and they were… dead."

"Ripped apart like so much meat!" Fenris lunged for Margret again, and Aedan slammed him back against the wall when he almost lost hold of the elf.

Zevran, Denerou and Oghren slipped out into the hall with their weapons in their hands, and placed themselves in-between Aedan and the guards.

Denerou notched an arrow in his bow, and trained it on Margret's head as he stepped back until he was even with Anders. "Warden-Commander Cousland." His quiet voice rang in the silent hallway. "I think we have worn out our welcome, ser."

"Aedan only wears out his welcome in all the best places in Thedas." Oghren laughed and hefted his axe as two of the guards advanced on him. "Try it, girls. We'll see if your fancy, white armor can hold up when it meets real, dwarven steel."

"Stop!" It didn't escape Fenris' notice, even as enraged as he was, that the guards hesitated before doing as their prince commanded. Nor did he miss Margret's triumphant look, before it was wiped clean and she once more appeared to be about to faint from fright.

Vael wasn't stupid enough to walk by his guards this time. Not when he had angry wardens-bristling with weapons-so close. "We all need to calm down. I don't know what you're accusing Margret of, but she's incapable of hurting another living creature."

That sent Fenris into another tailspin and he growled at the prince. "She might not have gotten her hands dirty, but I promise you, she is responsible for the butchery in my bedchamber. The one I share with my lover. It could have just as easily been him in pieces. It could have been his blood soaking into the find bed you gave us for the night. I swear to you, I will kill her before she does it to him."

Footsteps thundered behind Anders and he and Denerou whirled around to see more guards coming towards them. The guards skidded to a halt when they saw the arrow pointed at them, and Anders' hands extended out, flames arching between his palms.

"My prince," one of them called. "Are you all right?" They drew their weapons and the wardens were surrounded by guards on either side of them, with Aedan and Fenris in the middle. "There's a blood mage in the castle. We just came from one of the guest chambers. A maid screamed and fainted after she found…" What little Anders could see of the guard's face under his helmet had gone pale.

Margret began to shriek hysterically. "I knew it! He's a blood mage! Stop him, Sebastian, before he enslaves or kills us all." She pointed at Anders with one dainty finger, while her other hand was pressed against her lips. Tears shone in her eyes, making them appear jewel like and her more fragile. She was a damsel in distress, and she needed a strong man to save her from the evil blood mage in their presence.

"And his lover must be a demon. Look at the way he glows and how they both have bathed in blood." She wrapped her arms around Sebastian from behind, her hands barely able to touch in front of him. "Don't let them hurt me, my prince. I'm so frightened." He voice petered out into a scared whimper and Fenris felt his skin crawl. How could the man not see the cunning in her eyes?

"Warden-Commander," Vael called out. "Will you give your men into my custody while I investigate this crime?"

Aedan laughed, and the sound had no mirth. "With all due respect, _fuck no_."

"That _was_ respectful," Oghren pointed out, a smile on his lips. "I've heard you say much worse."

Disengaging from Margret, Sebastian stepped forward and moved pass his guards. He stopped as close as he could get to Aedan, right in front of Zevran and Oghren. "I have to point out that you are outnumbered. Even if you made it pass my guards, you would still have to get through the rest of the castle and out of Starkhaven."

Aedan grinned a feral smile. "And I need to point out, that numbers mean shit all to me. You should have been in the Deep Roads a year ago. Most fun I'd had in a long time. I've got the scars to prove it." Anders fought not to roll his eyes. He knew Aedan was only mentioning it to get the prince to back off, but Anders didn't _quite_ remember the fight that way.

Maybe in all the sheer terror, Anders had missed the fun parts that Aedan was alluding to.

"You want to find out what happened to your men too badly to leave." Sebastian held up his hands, palms out. "Tell your men to stand down and let me take them into custody. I'm sure this is not what it seems, on either side." It was then that something changed in the prince. Fenris saw it, and he knew that Aedan did to when the man stiffened in surprise.

With his back to Margret and his guards, Sebastian lowered his hands slowly in front of him. "Sometimes things happen that are beyond our control. Have you ever felt like that? I know I do at times." His fingers moved rapidly in a series of gestures, and he flicked his eyes to Zevran, for just the barest moment. "Let us settle this without more bloodshed. Give them to me."

Aedan stared at Vael before lowering his face to Fenris', and whispering softly in his ear. "I need you to trust me, as you have trusted me in the past. Can you do that?"

Fenris turned his head to look at the man in the eyes, his lips brushing along Aedan's as a consequence. "Anders must not be harmed," Fenris breathed.

"You know you have my word on that without asking," Aedan whispered back. "Now try to make it look a good and quickly, before Zev's head explodes with what it looks like we're doing. I'm not going to hear the end of it as it is. I'll try to pull back at the last moment."

When Aedan turned back to Sebastian, he nodded his head once, and Fenris exploded. "No! No, I will not have it!" He tried to brace himself and not flinch when Aedan's fist swung his way. The Warden-Commander was a large man, dense with muscle, and Fenris had felt his right hook more than once. It connected with his jaw and Fenris' head smacked back into the wall. His eyes slid shut and he slipped down to the floor, for all appearances, out cold.

Anders was yelling as he was roughly picked up by two guards and dragged down the hallway. He could hear Anders being taken along with him, the mage cursing the guards as they went. He could only hope that whatever Aedan had planned, that Anders wasn't going to pay for it if the commander was wrong.

But he had seen the same thing that Aedan had. There had been no mistake. Fenris had lived with Zevran for over a year now, and the assassin had tried to teach Fenris and some of the other wardens a few tricks of the Crows, in case it could be of use in the Deep Roads. Fenris thought that the other elf was amused by the idea of teaching Crow secrets so openly. One of those secrets had been a way of communicating silently, if they were ever in a need to do so to ambush darkspawn. Fenris hadn't the knack of it that others had, but he did remember a few of them. One of those signs he had seen Vael make several times.

Help.

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><p>Misstress caught on quickly! As I am sure others did as well.<p> 


	45. Chapter 45

Thanks to everyone for reading!

A/N:

Shadowfox13: I hope you're feeling better soon. ^_^

Question! For next next fic, which won't be for a while, I don't think, what would you rather read?

A fic with a templar Garrett Hawke/Anders, au-ish?

Or a Garrett Hawke that isn't too hot looking. I'm thinking of a Hawke that is a warrior through and through. He's got scars, is large and a bit burly and he has broken his nose too many times. I thought it would be interesting to pair him with Fenris. His non-hawtness will be the main storyline. Or I could pair him with Anders. A little bit like Aedan like I'm imagining. Just some thoughts for the future. Which would you rather see?

Also, I am posting on AO3 under the same name. In case something happens to this fic.

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><p>The moment the guards left, locking Anders and Fernis in their cell, the mage was on Fenris, his hands roaming over his lover. "Love, wake up." To his surprise, Fenris did just that, eliciting a yelp from Anders.<p>

Fenris sat up and rubbed at his jaw. "Why does Aedan always feel the need to hit me?" He groaned when Anders wrapped his arms around him and squeezed the elf tightly.

"Thank the Maker. I was so worried. When I saw you go down…" Anders touched his hand to Fenris' jaw and sent a trickle of healing magic to it. "Why did he do it?"

Fenris suppressed a moan when Anders' magic slipped down his brands and settled in his groin. The mage froze when he felt the sexual charge in the air. He slid his hand down Fenris' jaw and his throat, settling on his collarbone. Dried blood brushed off in flakes as his fingers passed. "When you make that sound, love… What it does to me…"

His teeth flashing in a quick smile, Fenris leaned forward and gave Anders a light kiss. "We are covered in blood and in a prison, now is not the time." His eyes glanced around their cell. The trend of opulent showing ended in Castle Starkhaven's dungeon. It was dark and damp, everything a proper dungeon needed to be. From the skittering sounds that came from dark corners, Fenris was willing to bet it housed rats as well.

In a habit that he had gained when he had belonged to Danarius, Fenris stood up and began to pace the room. He counted the steps it took to get from one end to the other—twice. He paused int he middle of the cell and began to count the stones from the floor to the ceiling and back again, estimating just how large the place was. Lastly, he walked to the series of steel bars that caged them in, and ran his fingers over each rod before finally stopping at the lock.

Anders watched him silently. When he heard Fenris begin to count, a deep sorrow settled in him. He had always wondered why it was that Fenris fidgeted all the time, and he had chalked it up to it being just the way the elf was. But now he was seeing the real reason. Anders had spent a year in solitary; he knew how it felt to be left alone with nothing but your thoughts and rage. Where he'd had Mr. Wiggums, Fenris hadn't had anyone. How many times had Fenris paced the length of his cell and counted the stones and bars that enclosed him over the years?

Anders closed his eyes and looked away. It was his fault they were in this mess. Aedan was all for heading straight to Weisshaupt and making very few stops on the way. It was Anders who had come upon the idea to speak to a few circles. He had wanted to try to persuade those that he could in person, instead of a letter that might never get read.

It had been a selfish need, and now Fenris and the others were paying for it.

He still couldn't believe that Aedan had just caved the way he had. It wasn't like him. Anders had been prepared for them to fight their way out, when Fenris had begun to yell. He had turned just in time to see Aedan hit him, knocking the elf to the ground.

Fenris abruptly straightened from his perusal of the lock and walked backwards towards Anders, his eyes on the cell across from them. He leaned over and whispered into the mage's ear. "We are not alone, so I will make this quick. Vael is in trouble and I believe Aedan is going to take it upon himself to help him. He asked me if I trusted him before he hit me. I do, and I know you do too. When the bitch comes down here, we must be prepared. It seems more is at stake than just us."

Anders' eyebrows drew down sharply. "What do you mean?" Fenris walked back to the cell door and crooked a finger at Anders, beckoning him closer. When Anders reached the bars the elf's brands lit up, flashing bright and illuminating the cell, and-more importantly-the cell across from them.

The mage gasped and grasped the bars tightly, bringing his face as close as he could to peer into the next cell. "That's…" He gaped at the cell's occupants in surprise. Zevran had been very thorough in his description. A blonde haired woman was staring back at him. Her hair, once beautifully plaited down her back was tangled and smeared with grime. Behind her, a balding man with a beard and rotting teeth glared at them.

"I believe," Fenris began quietly, "we have found Lizette and the zealot."

The woman started at hearing her name and she thrust her hands through the bars, reaching for them. "How do you know who I am? Have you come to help us?"

"Don't be foolish, woman," the zealot snapped. "Look at them. They are nothing more than the demon whore's next victims. I have told you before, the Maker will send a savior. We just have to not fall prey to her trickery and become unworthy of his salvation."

She whipped her head around. "This is your doing, so forgive me if I don't take you seriously anymore. You're the one who was taken in by her machinations. Why I even believed you in the first place will haunt me for the rest of my life if I ever get out of here alive."

Anders and Fenris exchanged a look. _This_ was what they had feared on the road to Starkhaven? Anders realized then that they didn't recognize him. The dried blood covering them both created a gruesome mask, disguising their features.

"You believed me because your heart was pure and open to hear the words of Andraste. The apostate must be stopped. The Divine herself had decreed it. We are just the instruments to carry out her will." Spittle flew from the man's mouth the more impassioned he became, and Anders wasn't the only one to grimace in distaste.

"You, idiot!" Lizette shrieked. Anders could hear the Orlesian accent that Zevran had referred to now that she was no longer trying to hide it. "I came from Orlais to Kirkwall to be an observer, nothing more. I was supposed to watch and make reports. Then you had to come along and ruin that for me. For the last time she is not a sister! How much more do you need to see in order to understand that? She will sacrifice us as she did the others." She clutched at the collar of her tattered chantry robes. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

It was Fenris who reminded them that there were others in the dungeon with them. "What were you supposed to observe?"

She turned back to them. "I can't…" her face screwed up in anger. "To the Void with it. I was sent to Kirkwall to watch the progress of the new Viscount and the Knight-Commander." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Until he came along. I actually believed him when he told me that the Divine had another assignment for me. How stupid am I? Like the Divine would ever deign to know who I was." In the brightness of Fenris' light, Anders could see her eyes begin to swim with tears. "I never meant for this to happen. I don't want to die," she whispered brokenly.

"Bullshit!" Anders burst out. He scrubbed at his face and hair with his hands. Dried blood fell like macabre snowflakes and floated to the floor.

When his hands fell away, Lizette gasped and took a step back from her bars. "You!"

Anders slammed a fist against the bars, sending the metal rods rattling against each other. "Yes, me. Now, you want to tell me the real reason you were in Kirkwall? I know that you were planning on having me killed, so you can cut the crap." While Anders and Lizette spoke, Fenris was watching the zealot. The man was unstable-of that there was no doubt-and unstable men in untenable circumstances were dangerous.

"How did you…" Lizette furiously wiped at her eyes and seemed to come to a decision. "Oh, what does it matter anymore? I was sent to watch the Viscount and Knight-Commander, I wasn't lying about that, but I was also supposed to keep an eye out for you. Your name has been bandied about in certain channels for years now, along with the mage Wynn. There is someone like me watching her, I can guarantee it. But I wasn't supposed to intervene, only observe. That was until _he_ came and told me differently. I thought it was my duty."

"You just can't help yourselves," Anders said incredulously. "You don't want to give mages a chance for a better life. You just want to see us ground down by your boot heels until there's nothing left but dust and ash."

"You don't know everything the way you think you do," Lizette chided. "You and Wynn have chosen a dangerous time to campaign for mage rights. The chantry wouldn't let it go by without question at the best of times."

"What are you insinuating," Fenris interjected.

"I think I can answer that." Zevran melted out of the shadows, startling a scream out of Lizette in the process. The zealot only muttered about demons and backed away further into his cell. "The lovely Lizette is a Seeker. I would not believe her assertions that she is only an observer." He gave the woman a wink. "Although the scared chantry sister is a good act. I am impressed."

He looked at Anders and Fenris. "Apologizes for taking so long. I had to prevent Aedan from going after the good Lady Margret and wringing the truth from her neck first. He can be too hands on at times, my Aedan. I have tempered his need to take on every cause as much as I could over the years, but not too much. He is so delicious when he is in a fighting mood. I wouldn't want to spoil that, no?"

Fenris sighed and fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Dare I ask how you got in here, or why you think she is a Seeker?"

Zevran chuckled, the sound low and purposefully seductive. "You may dare many things with me, my friend. Even more if Aedan and Anders were willing. The two of you in the hallway, so close…" He smiled as if he was reliving a particularly salacious memory. "So many possibilities… But I digress. It was simple matter to slip by the guards. They are not as vigilant as they could be. Maybe when this is all over I will give the handsome Prince Vael some suggestions. As to the other, it is obvious, no? The chantry does not send a lowly sister to observe a templar. That is the province of the Seekers of Truth. I would be willing to bet that our zealot friend does not know he has been taken for a ride."

When he arched an eyebrow at Lizette, she glowered at him. "Zevran Arainai. If you are here, then that must mean you decided to act on the information you discovered in the sewers of Kirkwall. I did hope you wardens would take the threat seriously and not come to Starkhaven."

"Wait a minute," Anders sputtered. "What's going on here? You knew he was there?" He didn't like the feeling that he and the other wardens were being played. It shouldn't surprise him that if the chantry was connected to what was happening in Starkhaven, that there was some deep game happening, and he was just being swept along for the ride.

"I would like to know that as well," Fenris said in aggravation. "Why has Margret gone against the chantry and locked up her allies?

Lizette laughed, short and bitter. "She is not a sister, despite what she tells Vael. She is far from it."

Kneeling on the floor in front of the lock to Anders' and Fenris' cell, Zevran pulled a few tools out of his boot and began working on it. "Margret—which I doubt is her name—is from Tevinter." He said it in such an offhand manner, that everyone was stunned into silence.

Then they spoke all at once.

"What?" Anders sputtered again.

"You _are_ good…" Lizette said with no small amount of appreciation.

It was Fenris that was most vocal. "You must be mistaken!" His brands flared brighter in his agitation. He had thought—foolishly—that killing Danarius would mean the last of his connection to the Imperium. No matter where he turned it was always there, a constant reminder that Fenris could not escape its reach.

If Margret was a magister, it would explain so much—too much. Fenris gripped the bars much like Anders was, his knuckles turning white. Why had he not seen it before? He even knew the spell the woman had used to kill Markum and Sandor. It had been there from the first, staring at him in the face, and he had not wanted to acknowledge it. From the first moment they had arrived the guards had been anxious. They had hesitated when their prince had commanded them. And Vael, the light touches she kept giving him all through the dinner. The castle… the whole castle was in her sway, and for some reason, she was losing control of the prince.

She must be powerful… More powerful than Danarius ever was.

Zevran pulled a lock pick from between his teeth and inserted it next to the tool already in the lock. "I am not mistaken. I was charming all through dinner, no? I was courtly and flattered at all the right times. She slipped—more than once. I was going to wait to confirm my suspicions when I followed her to the castle chantry later today. But I was never given a chance."

"She defiles the house of the Maker with her profane arts!" the zealot roared. "I have witnessed the slaughter she does in her demon god's name."

The instant the lock clicked and the cell door opened, Fenris was rushing across the narrow hall and reaching for Lizette. Anders was ready for it, and he grabbed the elf by the waist, holding on tightly. "Don't. We need to know what's going on here."

The skin around Fenris' nose wrinkled as he snarled at the woman. "You will tell us everything and you will do it quickly."

Zevran had walked down the hall and returned with a bundle and a bucket of water. "Wash and dress as she talks. It will not be long before the guards wake up from the nap I encouraged them into."

Lizette folded her arms. "And what makes you think I will talk, Crow?"

"I am an ex-Crow, and you will talk or I will make sure whatever she does to you, will pale in comparison to what I will do." Zevran shrugged as if he was doing nothing more than discussing the weather and not a woman's torturous death. "You know of me, yes? I can and will do this thing if it means helping my warden."

Lizette blew at her bangs in irritation. "Only as much as is needed for this instance. I wasn't lying when I said I didn't want to die. Working with you lot will have to be an improvement over him." She jerked her head towards the zealot. "He won't even give me a name."

"My name does not matter. Only the Maker can know of it in his divine glory!"

"See?" She sat down on the floor and folded her legs demurely under her, as if she wasn't in a dungeon and sitting in Maker knows what.

Anders scrubbed off as much of the blood as he could before the bucket had to be refilled. As he and Fenris cleansed and dressed themselves, they listened to what Lizette had to say. As she spoke, the pit of dread in his stomach grew wider and wider, until he felt like he was going to fall into nothingness and lose himself.

What she was insinuating was beyond credibility, but it made a horrifying sense at the same time.

Several years ago, chantry spies in Minrathous came across rumors of a plot to take control of Thedas, one country at a time. Instead of an obvious invasion, the Imperium would instead place their own people into the ranks of the ruling classes. From there, they would gain control. It would vary from country to country the methods used. Trade would resume between countries that had blocked it and Tevinter. Alliances and treaties would be made, written in blood. The how was left up to the agents in each country. They would send their best magisters, those powerful in the ways of mind control if needed.

Aedan had been partially correct, but it wasn't the chantry looking for power.

They were trying to stop it without alerting the common people, and the ruling families.

Lizette had been sent to Kirkwall, but when she got there, she had uncovered the plot to gain access to the Starkhaven throne. "I was able to infiltrate a cult of zealots that Margret had control of. She had them convinced that she was speaking for the Divine." She glanced at the zealot. "He's all that is left alive. I can only assume she has sacrificed the others for power."

Anders finished lacing up his boots and straightened. "So what does this have to do with me? Why involve me at all?"

"You were slated to die," she answered matter of factly. "You were going to come and try to make changes to the Starkhaven circle. She needs the circle built under her specifications. She needs the mages angry and willing to turn to someone that will lead them against their oppressors. If you had come and given them an environment of hope…" She spread her hands helplessly. "Like I said, you and Wynn have decided to make waves at the wrong time."

She shot to her feet when Fenris suddenly strode towards the bars. His body was cleansed of blood, but it still was caked in his hair. Anders perversely thought it gave him a glimpse into what Fenris would have looked like if Danarius had not completed his ritual, changing his hair to white from the strain of the magic on his body. In the dim light, it looked the same color as Varania's, until you got close enough to smell the blood.

"There is more I can sense it. Tell us," Fenris demanded.

Lizette gave him a slow smile. "Think. They will start at the countries closest to them. The Free Marches, Antiva, and—"

"The Anderfels," Fenris finished.

"Weisshaupt is near the Tevinter border," she nodded. "That is your destination, is it not?"

And now Anders was falling, the pit in his stomach wide open, and the endless darkness stared back at him. "Are you saying they are already there?" He didn't want to hear the answer, and knew what it was before she spoke.

"I am not allowed to give out secrets… But if _I_ was Tevinter, I would start with the First Warden. The King of the Anderfels died one month ago. The Grey Wardens rule there in fact now. The Anders people have a history of throwing off Imperium rule. It would be seen as a great victory to retake it."

"And…" Fenris rasped, urging her on.

"They are also looking for an object of power. A magister created it some time ago, but it was lost. We do not know what it is, but it is enough to know that they haven't yet moved on to Ferelden because they are waiting for its recovery. It is called the Key. But they are being more secretive about that than their plans to infiltrate."

Anders couldn't help himself. He sent Fenris and Zevran a panicked look. Fenris was staring at the Seeker, his hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically. When his eyes finally turned to meet Anders, he knew they were both thinking the same thing.

Their whispered fears in the night were coming to pass. Others in Minrathous knew what Danarius had done… And they were looking for Fenris.

Or maybe they had already found him, and were waiting for him in Weisshaupt. A letter describing what Fenris could do from an angry, young warden just might have fallen into the wrong hands.

"So," Lizette said, breaking Anders out of his panicked thoughts. "Are you going to let me out? We have a prince to save." She pointed her finger over her shoulder. "He can stay. I've had enough of his ramblings to last me a lifetime."


	46. Chapter 46

Thanks for reading everyone!

A/N: Now that I am thinking on it, a fic of a templar Hawke with an Awakening Anders would be fun. They could meet for the first time when Anders is conscripted and Hawke is with Alistair. *brains starts whirling*

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><p>When Anders saw how they were getting out of the dungeon, he balked. "No, way." He stared down at the hole Zevran had revealed when he had moved a series of stones out of the way. "It might have escaped your notice, but I am not female-or an elf. I can't fit in there. Why can't we go by the guards if you put them to sleep?"<p>

"Because," Zevran said patiently. "They will not be sleeping long enough for us to make it by them." Without giving Anders a chance to reply, he wormed his way into the hole, letting the others follow.

Anders and Fenris exchanged a look, and Fenris gestured for Anders to go next. Mumbling to himself, he got down on his hands and knees and pushed his way into the small tunnel. "How did he even find this?" he reached out and brushed his fingers along Zevran's foot. Even if he wasn't squeezing his eyes shut, he wouldn't have been able to see anything. Not that he would have wanted to. He felt things crawling across his face as he moved through the tunnel, things better left alone in the dark and damp earth.

It felt like they were crawling through the tunnel for an age. His mind was screaming at him to get out now. It felt like the walls were enclosing on him, and the wet earth was pressing down on him to entomb him forever in the dark. Fenris might have come out of his experience with Danarius with a more than a few tics, but Anders had come out of his time in solitary with a deep fear of being enclosed in the dark. So it was with great relief when he tumbled out of the tunnel followed by Lizette and Fenris.

That was until he saw where they were. Suddenly, the tunnel looked pretty good.

He backed up to the wall behind him to get away from what he was seeing, as if he was trying to sink into the stones. The smell of blood and viscera assaulted him. In one corner of the room was a pile of bones. Partially cleaned skulls grinned up at him, while flesh dangled from the bones in a gruesome parody of hair. In other corners were… well, Anders would only describe them as mountains of meat. Organs and flesh were organized with disgusting efficiency—a pile of hearts here, a pile of intestines there.

Bile rose in Anders' throat and he gagged. He turned and braced a hand on the wall and emptied the contents of his stomach. For the first time that day, he was glad he'd had nothing to eat since the night before. While his stomach rebelled, he could hear Fenris and Zevran talking.

"I placed the stones behind me. It might take them a while to find where we went." Fenris gently touched Anders' back and rubbed along his spine in a rare, public gesture of comfort. "How did you know about the tunnel?"

"I didn't," Zevran laughed. The sound was out of place in the room, and Anders shuddered as his body heaved again. "Most old castles like this have something like it in their dungeons. It was a way for the ruling family to escape if need arose. I did not expect it to end up in the castle chantry-although, I should have. The family would have locked themselves in here in case of siege and then escaped through the tunnel."

It was then that Anders realized exactly where they were. He spat a few times to cleanse his mouth and straightened. With a few fortifying breaths, he turned back to the room. There she was… A statue of Andraste was staring mournfully back at him. For once, Anders pitied her. The stone she was carved out of was drenched in blood, and other things best not thought of—unless Anders wanted to spend the rest of his time here being sick on the floor.

Letting out a shaky breath, Anders pulled his staff from his belt and examined it. It had a few scuffs and scrapes from the trek through the tunnel, but it appeared undamaged. He walked to the middle of the room, breathing in and out slowly through his mouth. He tapped his staff once on the floor, and a ball of light condensed on the tip and shot upwards, illuminating the room.

_Yes, Anders_, he thought to himself. _Make this place brighter so you can see everything, wonderful idea._ He kept his eyes on the others as they moved around the room. If any of them were bothered by what they were seeing, then none of them showed it. It figured that Anders—who was a healer and should be used to such things—was the only one who got sick.

Lizette was the first to speak, her voice sounding like a whip crack in the silent room and startling Anders. "Children of the Sun." She pointed to a pile of clothing that resembled the tattered robes she wore. "That's the cult she had made herself leader of. When I came here two days ago, there were more than just the two of us imprisoned. As the first day went by, several cultists were taken and never brought back. I think we are seeing what happened to them."

"A ready supply of sacrifices." Fenris had drawn his sword from his back, and he was gripping the hilt tightly. "These people would not be missed, and she could not chance using any of the servants or guards. For her to maintain the control spell she used, and the one to kill Markum and Sandor while we slept, she must have needed to kill many."

"Exactly!" Lizette turned to Fenris with a shrewd look on her face. "Where did you say you were from again?"

"I didn't…" Fenris said softly, but with finality.

"Ah…"

Anders didn't like the way she was scrutinizing Fenris. That was all they need right now was the chantry's eyes on the elf. He purposefully let the light wink out, plunging them into darkness. "Sorry." He cast it again, and when the room was bright once more, Lizette now had her gaze trained on him, a small smile on her face.

"So that's how it's going to be?"

Before Anders could reply, Zevran interjected. "Yes, yes, my elven friend is very pretty. Not as beautiful as I am, but I confess it is close, yes? Now we must figure out how we will kill her. A dead magister cannot bespell anyone."

Lizette shook her head. "We can't kill her. I need her alive long enough to question her. I need to know the names of contacts and where others like her are in place."

Now it was Anders' turn to shake his head. "To quote Aedan, 'fuck that.' She needs to die. In case it's escaped your notice, we're already in a big pile of mabari shit. If she allows us to get close at all, we need to take the opportunity and kill her."

"Killing her is the only option," Fenris said quietly. "She will not give you the answers you seek. Magisters of her caliber can't be broken easily. If she has a chance, she will take us all."

"Tevinter, correct?" Lizette asked. "You have a faint accent. From Minrathous, I would wager. You're not a mage, so that must mean you were either enslaved by, or employed by, a wealthy man. You have the speech of one of the elite."

"Correct," Fenris conceded.

When no more information was forthcoming, Lizette shrugged. "Then we kill her. Now how do you propose we do that?"

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?" Anders didn't blame his questioning of her. She had gone from wanting to interrogate Margret to killing her, in an instant.

"It may shock you to hear this, but I have never dealt with a magister before. Your fellow warden here has. If he says that she must be killed, then I need to believe him. As much as I would like to get her to talk, freeing Starkhaven must take priority. This principality is the richest in the Free Marches and has the largest standing army. If she takes control of that…" She spread her hands. "I don't think I need to elaborate. Sebastian needs to be saved."

"Sebastian?" Anders asked. "A little chummy with the prince aren't you?"

Lizette cleared her throat and started for the door, turning her back on them. "I knew him when he was in the chantry, although he will not remember me." She waited until Anders shut down the light spell before opening the door a crack. He could have sworn he heard an, 'At least he better not,' before she slipped out into the hall.

* * *

><p>Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden, hated waiting. He sat in a richly appointed room with Oghren, Denerou, Prince Vael and lady Margret. Oh, and several of the Starkhaven guards. Zevran had been able to slip away hours ago, and the more time passed, the more Aedan became anxious.<p>

"Where has your lover gone?" Margret asked yet again. She had long since dropped her act, and her voice was harsh and lacked any of the warmth or naivety that it had prior.

"I've told you," Aedan said innocently. "Zevran is pretty, but not the brightest. I don't keep him around for his conversation-if you don't mind me being frank. Maybe he's gotten lost."

Oghren chuckled. "Pretty and dumb. Oh, this is good." Aedan shot him a look and Oghren only chuckled harder.

"I'm sure he will turn up," Sebastian assured her. The longer they sat in the room, the more the prince was also losing his façade. He no longer spoke to her as if she was fragile creature that needed protecting. Instead, his tone was abrupt, and a muscle in his jaw jumped as if he was biting back what he really wanted to say.

Aedan had enough of it.

"Can we cut the shit? Is this even necessary anymore?" He pointed at her. "You're a blood mage, and for some reason, you've decided to try and take control of Starkhaven. You killed my men and tried to frame another warden. Now what I can't figure out, is if your insane, or just cunning. I'm leaning towards insane, because blood mages have to be to want to deal with demons and death."

"Here we go," Oghren hooted.

"And," Aedan continued on, ignoring the dwarf and the shocked looks from Vael and Margret. "You're passing yourself off like you have connections to the chantry. I admit, I bought it at first, but I think that's just another layer in your scheme. My pretty lover thinks you're from Tevinter. Which," Aedan held up a finger, "begs even more questions. Questions I don't care about right now, since I can't ask them of you when your head is severed from your body. How am I doing?

"Oh, wait. You also are losing control of your beloved prince. That must really stick in your craw. He looks so harmless, that it must aggravate you to realize he actually has a very strong will." He lowered his hand and draped his arm along the back of the sofa.

Margret's face—once it lost its look of surprise—twisted, revealing her true self. Her eyes were full of malicious and cunning, and her lips pulled into a sneer. She clapped slowly. "Bravo. So close, commander, but you still see so little. Maybe I should have ripped you apart instead-or the Crow." She touched Sebastian on the shoulder and the prince's eyes glazed. Aedan watched as the man seemed to struggle with himself before clarity descended once more in his gaze.

"He prays, you know. I can hear it in his thoughts. He prays for release from me and is able to fight me off for a short time." She touched his cheek, stroking his skin. "My lovely prince. He has known for a long time what was happening, but could not stop me." She licked up his jaw line and Sebastian flinched from the contact. "Even now he craves my touch even as he pretends to distain it."

"You're vile," Sebastian whispered. "I won't let you win, I will keep fighting you."

"So you keep insisting," Margret purred, as if his struggles were delighting her. "But once we are married, my love, you will have no choice. I will be a princess, and you will meet an untimely and tragic death." She released him with a condescending pat on his cheek.

Sebastian shot to his feet and backed away from her. "I should have killed you when I found you in the woods."

Margret smiled as if amused. "Shot me through the heart like you were doing to those poor deer? Yes, you should have. But you would not have killed a woman so easily, and by then it was too late. You were mine and you just _had_ to bring me to your castle, a prince rescuing a fair maiden."

"You don't know me," Sebastian insisted. "You only think you do. You only see me and my castle and think you know everything. Maybe several years ago I would have hesitated in killing a woman, but I am no longer that man. I'm the Prince of Starkhaven, and you are trying to take my throne. If I had to kill a woman to avenge my family and get it back, I will kill one again to keep it."

"You do say the most delightful things." Margret tilted her head to the side, considering. "You can't kill me. You may be able to break from my hold long enough to talk and send your secret messages, but you won't harm me. Your friends on the other hand…" She waved to the guards. "Kill them."

* * *

><p>Fenris pulled his sword from the belly of a guard and the man fell dead to the floor. They quickly found out that they would have to kill to get to Margret. Guards swarmed towards them from the hallway ahead, their eyes glazed. They mindlessly fought, shrugging off injuries unless fatal as if they were nothing more than the smallest scratch. Behind him, Anders slung spells from his staff, coating the floor with sheets of ice to slow the onslaught down. Zevran had given Lizette a dagger and the two of them swept through the throng, a silent and quick death. Guards were killed where they stood, unable to move fast enough to stop a dagger in the back, or a blade to the throat.<p>

When they had exited the chantry, Zevran had slipped away to locate Margret. He came back with a frightened maid, who babbled that the mistress was in her sitting room. The assassin, of course, knew the way and led them to a hallway on the second floor.

That's when the guards noticed them.

Fenris felt nothing but the slightest twinge of regret as he killed another one. They did not know what they were doing, but it was either kill, or be killed, and they didn't have the time or the numbers to subdue the guards.

A cry sounded from down the hall and Zevran's head shot up. "Aedan!" He pulled his daggers from the chest of a guard, blood spraying in his face, and raced off down the hall, dodging sword swipes as he went. Lizette took off after him, her plaited, blonde hair streaming behind her.

Fenris glanced over his shoulder. "Anders! We have to get through. Make a path!" He dropped to the ground when Anders nodded, swinging his staff over his head. Hot air shot over Fenris, and he felt an answering pull on his brands as the mage's spell flew close. He glanced up through the curtain of his hair, and swiped irritably at the tangled strands, to see the guards had been thrown back against the walls from the force of the blast. Some of them were burning, a few of them dead, their bodies charred.

Anders reached down and pulled Fenris to his feet and they both ran down the hall, hand in hand.


	47. Chapter 47

Thanks to each and every one of you for reading and reviewing!

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><p>Anders and Fenris skidded to a halt when they entered the sitting room. A few guards were dead on the floor, their broken bodies clashing with the cheerfulness of the room. Aedan, Denerou, Oghren and Vael stood on one side, while Margret was on the other. Aedan and Oghren held swords in their hands, presumably taken off of the dead guards. Sebastian and Denerou had bows drawn and arrows trained on Margret. A quick glance around the room showed Anders an empty rack. The Vaels were known in the Free Marches for their prowess with the bow, and the weapon was displayed in almost every room in the castle.<p>

But being armed meant nothing when Margret put the edge of her dagger to her palm and sliced a deep cut.

Zevran and Lizette stood between Margret and the others, and they were the first to feel the blast of power that burst from the magister. They flew backwards, and knocked into Aedan and Oghren, sending them all tumbling to the floor.

Fenris growled and his brands flashed brightly as he stepped partway into the Fade. Margret turned her eyes on him, and they lit up with delight. "The Key…" She held out her hand, blood dripping down her arm, and muttered a spell. Fenris froze in mid-step, his weapon swung back over his shoulder, and his other hand stretching for her.

"My, commander… Keeping secrets are we?" Margret laughed with glee. "I will be raised up for finding the Key."

Lizette had risen to her feet, and was holding her hands together as if in prayer. She closed her eyes, and Anders felt like every hair on his body was standing on end. Power was suddenly sucked from the room, and Anders felt himself drained. She was using a smite, he could feel it in every cell of his body as his connection to the Fade was abruptly cut off. The Seekers of Truth were a group created solely for keeping an eye on the templars and to weed out those that would abuse their power. Not that it did any good. It made sense that they would know the same skills the templars did in order to fight them if they must.

But in her zeal, Lizette had not only cut off Margret's connection, but Anders' as well.

Margret laughed in derision. "Do you think your little tricks will stop me?" Fenris' brands might have lost their light, but the moment he was free, he kept moving. He grasped the hilt of his massive sword with both hands and rushed at the woman. He swung out, aiming the keen edge of his weapon for her throat in a strike meant to take her head in one stroke.

His sword hit air when she disappeared. He immediately whirled around, his eyes darting about the room. He had seen revenants disappearing and reappearing, but he had never seen a magister do so.

"She can't have gone far," Anders called. "We have to—" Fingers weaved in his hair and his head was jerked back as a knife was set to his throat. He rolled his eyes as far to the side as he could to see Margret grinning up at him.

"Let's not be too hasty. I wouldn't want my hand to slip." She smiled over Anders' shoulder at Fenris and the others. "Shall we talk? Or do I have to kill him first?"

"You do it and I will rip you apart," Fenris promised.

"Do it and we'll help him," Oghren agreed.

"Now, now… Have the seeker lift her spell and I might just let him go." She blinked innocently at Lizette. "Oh, don't look so surprised. Did you really think you had me fooled? I just didn't care enough about the chantry to deal with you. But now you've gone and done something naughty, and I can't have that. Release me, or I will be forced to use other means to get power."

"You've lost, Margret," Sebastian called. "Let him go. You have no power."

Margret gave a long suffering sigh, as if what was happening bored her. "You have until the count of five. One."

"No!" Fenris edged closer to Margret. His heart was thundering in his ears. The dagger at Anders' neck had cut into the tender flesh there, and a trickle of blood dripped into the collar of his robes.

"Two."

Aedan looked over his shoulder at Denerou and Vael. "Make sure the shots count." They both nodded, their eyes and arrows trained on Margret.

"Three."

Fenris could hear the creaking of the bows being pulled tauter. He took another step forward and Margret's eyes shot to him.

"Four…" She paused. "You didn't think I was really going to wait until five did you?" She pulled the knife away from Anders' throat, and then plunged it into his belly, twisting it and jerking the blade up towards his chest. Anders' mouth gaped open in pain and shock. His eyes rolled in his head and he dropped to his knees.

The twang of arrows being loosed broke Fenris from his shock. He cried out in denial and rage as he rushed towards the woman who had fallen to her knees as well, following Anders' body and ducking the arrows that embedded themselves into the wall behind her. She pulled the dagger free and flung it. It skittered across the floor to come to a stop against the expensive sofa. Placing her hands on Anders' wound, she muttered a spell and drew them quickly upwards. Blood followed her palms, like deep, red ribbons. She flicked her hands up and power shot out from them, slamming into Fenris. Crimson wrapped rope-like around Fenris, stopping him in his tracks

With eyes glowing as red as the blood she wielded, Margret sent them a triumphant smile. "Things were going beautifully until you came here, commander. But you brought me the Key, so I shall forgive you."

Fenris struggled against his bonds. "I will kill you! I will reach inside you and take every one of your organs and show them to you, you bitch!" His face was wet, and Fenris knew that he must be crying. He began to scream at her in Arcanum. "I will kill you and then kill every magister in Minrathous! I will send you all to the Fade personally, if you crave it so much!" Fenris felt like a wild animal as he surged against the spell.

As Aedan took a step forward, he whirled the sword in his hand, sending the steel to singing as it whipped through the air. "Madame Seeker, if you would be so kind…"

"If I stop the smite then-" Lizette began.

"Fuck it." Aedan clutched at the hilt, arresting his sword's movement. "If Fenris wants to show her her organs, then who am I to judge?" He looked behind him to the others. "On three. One. Two."

Fenris' brands abruptly flared bright, and Aedan jerked his head towards Lizette. "You didn't think I was going to wait until three, did you?" she asked.

"I like you," Aedan said before yelling out a battle cry and running at Margret, with Oghren, and Zevran on his heels.

With one last push, Fenris broke free of the spell. All around him the dead guards began to rise up as Margret sent power into them. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of battle being engaged, but he ignored it. He had one goal in mind, and nothing was going to stop him from reaching it.

He became an iridescent ghost, one that moved too swiftly for Margret's spells to reach. He dropped his sword, wanting to feel the woman die under his fingertips, instead of through the long blade of his weapon.

He didn't spare one glance at Anders' body. He couldn't deal with that right now. There would be time for… There would be time later, once Margret had paid for what she had done.

A reanimated guard stepped in between Fenris and his prey. Fenris ducked the badly swung sword to come up behind the creature. He reached his hands inside the thing's back, and grasped its spinal cord. With a quick yank and a sickening crack, he pulled the bone free, and the guard dropped to the ground, dead once more. He turned to face Margret, nothing between the two of them now, and held it up like some sort of trophy. He opened his hand and let the bone fall to the Orlesian rug, before kicking it in her direction.

"You should have picked someone else," he told her. "I would have killed you quicker then."

For the first time, Margret looked a little frightened. "You killed Danarius, didn't you? I had heard rumors that he had found you. But when he did not return…"

The smile Fenris gave her was predatory. "His death was quick—and I hated him. Imagine what I will do to you." He was quickly upon her, grabbing her by the front of her gown and taking her to the floor. Pain shot through him as she slapped her palms on his chest and sent a lightening spell through his body. He gritted his teeth and hissed in her face. "Beg me. Beg me for your life. Beg me like how I would have begged you for his!" His hands slipped into her body and disappeared up to the wrist in her chest.

"He's… not dead…" she gasped, her eyes wide with fright. "Sacrifice no… good… if he's… dead too quickly."

Fenris sucked in a quick breath through his nose, and turned to look at Anders for the first time since Margret had sunk her blade into him and he had fallen. Anders was staring back at him, his body shaking from shock. The mage's fingers twitched on one hand, and Fenris felt a burgeoning hope. He was still gravely wounded, but he was alive.

"Heal him," he ordered her. He had one hand around her heart and the other in a lung. He solidified them both just enough for her to feel pain and both organs stutter. "Do it!"

Margret smiled at him through the agony. "I can't. You know… why."

Panic rose up inside Fenris. He knew exactly why. A healer in Minrathous was uncommon. Why would you spend your time trying to learn how to heal, when you could use that knowledge for power instead? Even in the rest of Thedas, Anders' ability was rare. For a mage to have the skill he did, it took years of dedication and a natural affinity for it. The chantry did not teach the healers of Thedas what they needed to know in order to excel. Not unless you were a mage with a rebellious streak and a knack for finding banned books.

Footsteps sounded near him and Fenris flicked his eyes over to the side to see Aedan kneeling down next to him, with Lizette on his other side. "Fenris," Aedan said with much more calm than he looked. "The seeker is going to take her into custody. I need you to let go when she tells you to."

The guards must be dead, killed while Fenris had been dealing with Margret. He shook his head. "No. She needs to suffer."

Lizette chuckled next to him. "She'll suffer, I promise you that."

Fenris didn't like the small glimmer of hope that sprung into Margret's eyes and he squeezed her heart. The magister screamed in agony, as her hands scrabbled against his chest. "Not good enough," he hissed.

"Fenris," Aedan snapped. "If you don't let her go you can't go with the others when they take Anders."

Snapping his head to the side, Fenris saw that they were gently sliding Anders away from Margret. The mage let out a moan of pain, his face wane and pale from lack of blood. It was a miracle that he hadn't passed out yet. "Where are you taking him? Don't touch him, you'll hurt him!"

If it wasn't for the fact that Lizette had been ready, Margret would have had her chance when Fenris jerked his hands free from her body and shot to his feet. The seeker placed a hand on Margret's forehead, and with a word sent the woman into sleep.

Fenris slid to a stop and dropped to his knees next to Anders. His hands hovered over the mage's body, afraid to touch him and causing him to cry out in pain once more. He ripped off his gauntlets with his teeth, tossing them away and touching Anders' cheeks. The mage's flesh was cool, but there was still faint warmth in his skin, enough to give Fenris hope that he hadn't lost too much blood.

"Anders? Anders, look at me. I need you to open your eyes and look at me." He patted Anders' face with his hands, feeling the scrape of his beard that was always threatening to grow.

"Hate... when you tell me… what to do," Anders mumbled. His eyes slitted open and glanced blearily at Fenris. "Unless… it's in… bed."

Fenris touched his forehead to Anders and gave him a small kiss. "Why must you always joke at such horrible times?"

"Can't help it… Defect… or a gift… not sure which." Anders' breathing was shallow, as if each breath was a struggle. "Hurts."

"I know." Fenris grasped one of Anders' hands in his own. "I need you to do something for me. I need you to heal yourself." He placed their hands over the wound in his abdomen, and felt sick when their fingers touched slick blood and rent flesh. Fenris looked up and saw that Vael and Oghren were gone.

"They have gone to get a healer," Zevran said quietly. For the first time, Fenris noticed that the others had not fared well in the battle. Zevran was bleeding from what looked like a head wound, his hair turned red in a patch on his right side. Denerou was wrapping his shoulder with what looked like a piece of his tabard that he had torn free.

He felt a pull on his brands and something clicked into place inside of him, something that he'd felt crack and splinter when he saw Anders go down. He looked and saw that some of Anders' wound was beginning to heal, the flesh knitting itself back together.

And then it stopped.

"Can't…" Anders mumbled. "Tired… Can't do anymore." The bleeding had slowed, but the gash was still deep, even if it wasn't as long as it had been before.

Fenris just hoped it was enough.


	48. Chapter 48

Thanks for reading everyone!

A/N: I am not a doctor and everything about healing is purely made up and probably horribly wrong!

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><p>Anders drifted. He drifted in sleep. He drifted in pain. He drifted in blessed numbness. Sometimes he drifted to the sound of Fenris' voice, unable to make out anything more than the tone. More than once, he was pulled from his drifting to come crashing into wakefulness. He hated those times most of all. Fenris would be catching his hand to the source of his pain, shouting in his ear to heal himself. Lyrium and healing potions were occasionally forced down his throat and he would sputter and choke on them.<p>

The dreams, though… They were the worst part.

He dreamed of his parents, his father's cruel words and fists and his mother's pitying looks. He dreamed of the village he spent the first twelve years of his life in, and the way the others would always shy away from him when he was near. He would call out in the language of the Anderfels, remembering words that he had not spoken for more than half his life.

He would dream of the circles he had been in. First the one at Hossberg in the Anderfels, a short stay of six months before he was shunted off to the next. This time it was the circle in Nevarra City, the birthplace of the Right of Annulment. The things he had seen there still haunted him. He had been there until he reached sixteen and was sent off to Ferelden at Lake Calenhad.

His mind felt like it had burst open, and everything that he ever was had spilled out, forcing him to relive things best kept in the deepest recesses of his psyche. He would cry and shake in his fevered dreams, unable to surface into wakefulness in order to escape.

Why had his father hated him so much? Why did his mother stand by and allow him to be taken? Why did the templars always know just exactly what to do to cause the most pain? They were everywhere, taking friends, taking lovers, taking everything Anders had ever cared about, and telling him it was for his own good.

He relived the dark moments in the circle when he had contemplated killing himself or when he was considering asking to be made Tranquil. Feeling nothing was better than the ever constant fear of falling on the templars' bad side. Feeling nothing was better than knowing he had been given away without a backward glance.

His mind only showed him the bad and never the good. Like the first time he had been kissed, and felt the stirrings of love and lust. Or the exhilaration of swimming across Lake Calenhad in one of his escape attempts.

No, it only showed him the things guaranteed to inflict the most suffering.

His mind was urging him to let go, showing him that there was nothing left even as his heart cried out in denial. There was something more, there had to be, or else he would have given up long ago. But every time he tried to grasp it, it slipped through his fingers like water.

The times he was most lucid, he would understand what was happening to him. Margret's spells had wormed their way into him, showing him horror. It was those times he fought the hardest, bringing to mind everything that was good in his life—past and present.

He remembered exploring the Ferelden cirlcle tower and finding hiding places that even the templars did not know of, and the moments of peace he and Mr. Wiggums would have. Or how he would take Karl to those spots where they would make love slowly, without fear of discovery. His time he spent in the Pearl, when he knew he was flagrantly flaunting his power, and he didn't care. The look on Ser Rylock's face when she realized that the king of all Ferelden, was going to allow Aedan to conscript him, snatching her victory away from her.

He remembered his bantering with Oghren, and how the dwarf got one on him with a mention of a templar sword.

He remembered how Sigrun tried to convince him a bush was evil and he had to kill it with fire.

He remembered flirting with Nate and how the man rebuffed him, but without heat.

He even recalled how terrifying, but how good it felt to be by Aedan's side when they killed the Mother. Anders had doing something good with his magic, a feeling he had always wanted.

Even Kirkwall had its good memories. Opening the clinic and doing whatever he blighted well pleased, thumbing his nose at the Knight-Commander in the process. Staying up late and arguing with Justice about chantry law and the things they could do to better mage life. Sneaking into the Gallows and starting the mage resistance. Meeting Hawke and seeing first hand that apostates with no knowledge of circle life existed. Playing Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man. Seeing Fenris stride down the steps in Lowtown, his body moving fluidly and languidly. Hearing his voice and the cultured tones.

Fenris…

It was when he remembered Fenris that he could feel himself begin to rally. Fenris needed him, whether the elf admitted it or not. He needed someone to take care of him, and make sure he did not slip back into his habits of drinking and walling himself away physically and emotionally. He put up with Anders' jokes, and the mage was even able to coax a smile from him, making the glares sent his way worth it. They understood each other in a way that Anders was still amazed at.

He couldn't leave Fenris behind. When the time came for Anders' Calling, they would go into the Deep Roads together—with a flask of deathroot. There they would wait for the darkspawn to come and do what needed to be done. They had promised each other that, and Anders was going to make sure it happened.

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><p>Anders was thrashing in his sleep again, and Fenris placed a calming hand on the mage's cheek. He lay next to Anders in the room they had been given by Sebastian, close by the castle healer if need be. For two weeks Anders had slipped in and out of wakefulness while Fenris did everything he could to keep him alive.<p>

He pressed his face into Anders' shoulder and breathed in his scent. Oghren and Denerou were gone. Oghren had been sent to Ansburg, since the wardens of the Free Marches were so close to Tevinter. They needed to be told what was happening, despite that Lizette wanted it kept quiet. Denerou had gone back to Vigil's Keep with a series of letters from Aedan to Howe and King Alistair.

Anders went still and Fenris placed a hand on him out of habit, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and the thrumming of his heart. Fenris didn't know what was worse, the dreams and thrashing that threatened to reopen his wound, or the utter stillness that sent Fenris' heart to dropping. The wound had closed and with the combined talents of Anders and the castle healer, the damage to his organs had been minimal.

But he still would not wake up.

One of the few times he had left Anders' side was to see Margret in the dungeon. He had demanded to know why Anders wouldn't wake up, and when the woman had given him a sly smile in response, he had lost it. It had taken Aedan and a few guards to pry him away from the bars as he tried to get at her, screaming for her head.

The seeker had no luck getting any answers from her either. She had tried many times to see Fenris and question him as to why Margret had called him the Key, but she'd had the door slammed in her face and barred for her trouble.

Fenris couldn't think about that right now. He knew he would have to deal with the consequences, but it seemed so petty, so insignificant compared to taking care of Anders.

"Fen…"

Fenris shot up and looked at Anders to find the mage staring back at him. His mind reeled with seeing Anders with his eyes open and aware for the first time in weeks. At first, he wasn't sure of what exactly he was seeing, if it was real or if he had finally cracked. When Anders gave him a small smile, Fenris felt something inside him seize. He blinked rapidly as he felt tears sting the backs of his eyes, but he wasn't able to stop them. He opened his mouth and a strangled cry escaped his lips. He buried his face into Anders' shoulder, and his body shook as he was wracked with sobs and relief.

At first, his arm didn't follow his command, but with strength of will, Anders lifted it to place a hand on Fenris' back. He had never seen the elf cry before, and his heart broke. His voice was raspy from disuse, and he had to swallow a few times before he could speak. "Don't cry, love."

Fenris' shoulders shook and he sat back up. He turned his face away from Anders, and wiped at his eyes. Anders felt his lips spread into a small smile. He could see that the elf was embarrassed. Just visible through the fall of his hair, Anders could see the tips of his ears were red. Fenris cleared his throat and sucked in a deep breath before turning back. "I'm not… I'm not…" He dropped his face into his hands and Anders heard him sobbing again.

Anders reached up and gently pried Fenris's hands away. His face was blotchy, and his nose had turned red. Fenris squeezed his eyes shut and tears trickled down his cheeks. "I thought you were going to die. I thought… You wouldn't wake up. Nothing we did…" He turned his head to the side, his hair falling over his face, hiding from Anders once more. "I thought I was going to lose you."

Weaving his fingers with Fenris', Anders gave his hand a squeeze. He flicked his gaze to the hair tie on the elf's wrist. The original one had frayed and fallen off long ago. Fenris had taken to stealing others over time. Anders had made a game out of it. When he noticed that his was missing and that Fenris now wore it on his wrist, Anders would purchase a newer, more ornate one, just to see if Fenris would wear it. The last one had green beads woven into it, and Anders had bought it because it had reminded him of the elf's eyes.

He touched the beads, feeling their smooth texture on his fingertip. "We promised, love. I…" His face screwed up in concentration. "I kept thinking, I can't leave yet." He tried to sit up and groaned as pain radiated from his abdomen.

Fenris' hands were on his shoulders, pushing him back down. "Let me get the healer. Stay there." He slipped from the bed and rushed to the door.

"Where does he think I'm going to go?" he wondered to the ceiling. Anders pulled his blanket back and saw that he was naked save for a heavy bandage around his waist. Carefully, he pulled the linen away, biting his lip to keep from crying out.

"Maker," he breathed. An angry, red scar stared up at him from just below his navel and stopping short of his ribcage. He gingerly prodded it, and winced as shards of pain lanced up his body. His eyes looked inward as he sent questing magic into the damaged tissue. Intestines and his stomach had been punctured. He couldn't exactly see the newly healed organs, but his magic told him that something was different. He dimly recalled that Fenris had forced him to use his magic after Margret had been subdued. It had saved Anders' life. If he hadn't been able to clear away the fluid leaking from his intestines and stomach, and healed the openings the dagger had made, he would have died. Not right away, but slowly and painfully.

As he drew his magic up through the layers of muscle and skin, he sensed another's spell. The healer Fenris had mentioned. He hadn't done bad work, but Anders could see where the flesh hadn't knitted together as cleanly as he would have liked. Even without his use of magic, he could see where the scar was thicker in some areas than others. Any pain he was feeling now was the pull of stiff muscle and flesh.

He heard footsteps thundering down the hall and he jerked the bandage and blanket back up, cutting off the spell. The door burst open and Fenris hurried inside, followed by an older man. He looked like a healer. Anders wondered if he hadn't joined the wardens and was able to live to an old age, if he would one day have looked the same. He had wispy white hair that puffed around his scalp like a newly born chick's. He was slightly stooped, and Anders was willing to bet it was from bending over a table bottling potions for years on end. When his lips broke into a smile, it deepened the lines on his face, especially around his kind, blue eyes.

"I see you're awake." The old man hobbled over to the side of the bed and yanked down the blanket without ceremony. With gentle, but efficient hands he took a small dagger and cut away the bandage, all without disturbing Anders. While Anders appreciated his skill, he didn't like the way the old man was squinting down at his stomach, as if he had trouble seeing. "Looks good. Been healed for a while now, you just took your time in waking up," he chided Anders. The mage suppressed a wince and the urge to tell him he was sorry.

Fenris was hovering nearby. "You are sure he is fine? He was asleep for a while. I gave him the broths you instructed, and tried to make sure he drank as much fluid as possible, but what if I wasn't diligent enough? What if—"

The old man waved off Fenris' concerns. "He's fine. He'll need more rest, but he should be up and about in a week. You did more than enough." He winked at Anders. "Glad you're awake. Now I can get some sleep myself. Your friend here likes to wake me up at odd hours of the night to ask questions."

Holding up his finger, Fenris glowered. "Look, old man—"

"Told you before, my name is Hendrick. I know your hair is white, son, but you aren't as old as I am, so you have no excuse in forgetting it."

Exhaustion swamped Anders and he was suddenly afraid. What if he went back to the dreams, and this time he couldn't wake up? His hand flailed blindly, reaching for Fenris. "Stay with me, love." He knew how Fenris got embarrassed when he called him that around others, but Fenris didn't say anything as he sat down on the edge of the bed and took Anders' hand.

"Boy's been nowhere else but here," Hendrick groused. "He needs a few good meals in him. You both do. I'll have the kitchen send something up, not too heavy mind you. Now," he shook his finger at Anders and the mage felt like a small child. "You are not to get out of bed for a week unless it is to wash or use the chamber pot. When you do, you'll need help. You haven't used your legs in a few weeks, and they are going to be weak. No funny business either," he narrowed his eyes at Fenris. "After a few days, you can try to make a trek outside. The sun will do you some good. Any questions?" he asked before rushing on without waiting for a reply. "Good." He walked to the door and turned as if remembering something. "And no thinking because you're a healer that you can gainsay my orders. You're a patient, _my_ patient. I've helped birth two generations of Vaels, and if I don't take any crap from them, then I won't from you. Do I make myself clear?"

Anders' eyes had grown wider and wider with each word Hendrick spoke. "Yes, ser."

"Good." With that he was gone.

"That was beautifully done," Anders said in awe. "I wish I could have seen him in action with you."

"Don't," Fenris pleaded softly. "I can't take your joking right now. I just can't… when I saw her stab you…" he turned to Anders. "Is this what you felt like when I was gone in the Fade?"

"Yes," Anders said quietly. "You feel like there is nothing left, like you are only moving because you have to, not because you want to."

Fenris shook his head. "No. No, I wanted to. I wanted to go to Minrathous and kill every last magister there until they were all dead, or I was. I wanted to cause Margret as much pain I was feeling, until I realized that wasn't possible." He stared down at one of his hands, his fingers trembling. "I wanted to rip out her organs and show them to her, hang her body with her intestines in the middle of Minrathous to show them that they would be next." He flicked haunted eyes up at Anders. "What kind of monster am I that I would think these things?"

"Lov—"

"I did this to you. I've done so many things to you. They aren't going to stop, Anders. Danarius told others, I was part of some..." he waved his hand around in agitation. "Plan. I just… I'm selfish, so selfish. I know that I'm dangerous, but I don't want to leave you. I know it's pathetic, but you're the only thing I have ever truly wanted for myself." Fenris' voice became raspy as his emotions tumbled out unchecked. "If you decide to leave the wardens again, I will go with you. If you want to go against the chantry, I'll be there. Just… Just don't leave me behind. For so long, all I knew was my need for revenge. I never gave any thought beyond what I would do once I had it. You've given me my answer, and forced me to see there were things outside of my own wants.

Anders felt a tear slip down his cheek. "Love, I'm not going anywhere. You didn't cause this, and you couldn't have prevented it. I'm alive, and you're alive, we'll work out the rest as it comes.

"Besides," Anders gave Fenris a charming grin. "Pounce likes you, and as I've said before, cats are _the_ best judges of character. He would never forgive me if I didn't bring you back."

Fenris groaned and lay down beside Anders, the tension inside him easing. It was finally hitting him that Anders was going to be all right. He felt drained, emotionally and physically. "You told me while we were waiting for the healer to come for you, that your jokes were either a defect or a gift, and you didn't know which."

"Really?" Anders yawned and his eyes slid closed. "Sounds like me. I bet I delivered it with much more panache, though."

Slipping an arm over Anders' chest, Fenris kissed his neck and smiled against his skin. "You did."


	49. Chapter 49

Thank you to everyone that has read and reviewed!

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><p>"You're being obvious," Anders said as he sat down on the grass next to Zevran. "If you want to watch him, maybe you should pick a window like the maids are doing." They had been in Starkhaven for a month now, and Anders had only been allowed out of bed for the past week. It was beautiful day, and Anders closed his eyes, letting the sun gently heat his skin.<p>

Zevran gave Anders a sly smile. "If he did not want people to watch, he would not currently be in his state of undress." He nodded towards the man in question. "He knows what he is doing, and he knows that I am watching him. We both win, yes?"

Anders opened his eyes as Sebastian Vael sunk another arrow dead center into the practice target. He was shirtless, and the muscles in his bare back and shoulders were clearly defined as he drew his bow back to take another shot. A rivulet of sweat dripped down his spine, and Anders felt his mouth go dry. "I take it Aedan is still talking with Oghren?" he asked, his eyes riveted.

"Yes, along with Lizette and your Fenris. They make plans and argue as to what is to be done. I've already made my opinion clear, so my input is not necessary." Zevran flopped onto his back and rolled to his side so that he could keep his eyes on Sebastian.

"So you decided to blatantly ogle the prince instead?" Anders scooted around on the grass until his back was resting against a tree trunk. He still had some stiffness in his scar, but it was getting better each day. Slowly, he was regaining his strength and they would have to leave Starkhaven.

Anders liked it here. Starkhaven was picturesque, with its rolling hills of green grass and dense forests. The people were nice, the food was good, and better yet, he actually liked their host. He and Sebastian had taken to meeting after dinner every evening to argue about chantry law-well, less arguing and more debating. Elthina hadn't lied when she said the prince loved it. The two of them had fascinating conversations. Anders had never had someone that was as interested in the ins and outs of chantry law as he was, and was willing to talk about it at length. Vael wasn't blind to the chantry's faults, but he was also a devout Andrastian. They argued, debated, sometimes even yelled about circle policy, the sound of their voices carrying out into the hall.

He had taken Elthina's advice to heart and kept some of his more seditious leanings to himself. Anders wanted the mages of Thedas free, but he was beginning to understand that was something that was not going to happen in his lifetime. All he could do was lay the groundwork, so the future generations of mages could have a better life than he'd had.

Where in Kirkwall he was able to get Cullen to concede to have mages see their families, Anders was working on something different in Starkhaven. It had come to him while he had been confined to his bed. Hendrick was a good healer, but that had only come with age. Anders was good, but that was because he was a warden, and because he'd had years of practice working on the people of Darktown. If Sebastian would allow the mages of the Starkhaven circle to come to the castle and have Hendrick teach them the way Anders was in Vigil's Keep, then they would be able to save so many lives.

It was a dicey proposition at best. The chantry had forbidden books on anatomy, and anything that could be used to tempt a mage into blood magic. He had already broken ground with Sebastian, telling him of his work in Vigil's Keep, and how the healers there already had skills it had taken a mage like Hendrick a lifetime to learn. He had to tread carefully, but the prince had seemed receptive so far. When Anders broached the subject next, he was going to point out that no books would be given to the students, and no corpses would be dissected. He had just finished drawing up a proposal this morning and had decided to come out and enjoy the sunshine.

You're good at reading people," Anders suddenly said. "What do you think of Vael?"

Zevran rolled over to face Anders and propped his head in a hand. "What do I think? I think the things I would do to that man would make him praise the Maker even more than he already does. Or it would send him into a confessional, and cause the poor brother that had to listen to his sins to faint."

Laughing, Anders shook his head. "Why is everything about sex with you? That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Why is everything about the chantry with you?" he shot back. "We all have our vices and our favorite topic of conversation. Mine just so happens to be more interesting than yours. Besides," he gave a languid shrug. "I just don't see the point in lying to myself. I could die any day, so could Aedan. Why should I pretend that I do not want to watch Aedan drilling the good prince while I watch? I do. I _really_ do. I know it, Aedan knows it, and Sebastian knows it." He rolled on his back and stretched in a move calculated to show off as much of his leanly muscled body as he could. "So I content myself with looking."

Anders held up a hand. "Wait. Did you just say that Vael knows it?" He knew that Zevran could be shameless, but propositioning the Prince of Starkhaven was going a bit far.

Getting up on his elbows, Zevran gave Anders a chiding look. "Of course. I told him so. There is still a bit of the rogue in the man, so he laughed kindly when he turned me down. He tantalizes me with thoughts of what I should say in order to get him to blush. He may be the good chantry boy now, but if only I had known him before…" His tone had turned wistful.

"If you had known me before, we could have had our fun." Anders jerked his head up to see Vael had paused in taking his next shot and was looking over his shoulder at them. "Alas, I have to admit I only would have done it to anger my father. Taking an elven ex-Crow as a lover would have scandalized him."

Anders closed his eyes as he felt the back of his neck heat in embarrassment. Zevran had known the prince could hear them and had refrained from answering Anders' question, diverting the mage to something else. It was well done, mortifying, but well done.

"Aedan said much the same to me once. I have to say, I would not have minded either of you using me in such a fashion." Zevran's eyes danced wickedly. "The two of you together when you were younger… That is a lovely thought. I will cry into my pillow each night for want of it."

Sebastian loosed his arrow and set his bow on a rack that stood next to him. He strode over to them and sank down on the cool grass. This close, Anders could see that more sweat had beaded on his skin to collect in the hills and valleys of his muscles. He squirmed a little, silently cursing Zevran for putting thoughts in his head that Fenris would not appreciate.

Or maybe he would. Fenris did like to whisper to Anders while he was fucking him of brining another into their bed. Anders mentally shook his head. No. No, Fenris was just talking, and besides, Anders didn't want anyone the way he wanted Fenris.

"You flatter me." Sebastian chuckled and Anders' stomach did a strange, little flip. "But even if I were so inclined, I believe Cousland would have something to say on the matter."

Zevran blew out a woeful sigh. "Too true. Aedan likes us to be monogamous, and for some reason I find that I cannot deny him."

Anders sobered instantly as he recalled something that Aedan had told him when they had been captured by Corypheus. He listened with half a mind as Sebastian and Zevran bantered and flirted. If he had to do it to save Fenris, would he sleep with someone else the way Zevran had? He wanted to say no, but if it meant keeping Fenris alive, he had to admit that he might just do it.

"Anders?"

The mage blinked and realized Sebastian had been trying to get his attention for some time. "Sorry," he said lamely. "I still get tired easily."

"That's all right." Sebastian smiled. "I was asking if you knew what Cousland had decided."

Aedan had kept Sebastian as much in the loop as he could. Ansburg wasn't far from Starkhaven, and if Tevinter had infiltrated Weisshaupt, Starkhaven and the circle were still at risk. As far as Oghren knew, Ansburg had not been compromised. The wardens there were a small group, so an outsider would be noticed. The Warden-Commander of the Free Marches was a quiet man, but he had readily cooperated when Oghren had shown up with a letter from Aedan. There was no love lost between most of the warden outposts and Weisshaupt. The First Wardens were usually from the Anderfels, and mired in politics there. Most of the warden outposts were left to fend for themselves unless a blight broke out. Even then, Weisshaupt was useless. They had done next to nothing when all but two wardens had been killed at Ostragar. Weisshaupt had left Aedan and Alistair to handle everything on their own, and only claimed Aedan as a hero once the Archdemon was dead. Anders suspected that there was more to it than that, but Aedan had kept silent.

Blighted warden secrets. He was one, but there were still things being kept from him.

"We leave in two days," Anders finally replied. "We're going straight to Weisshaupt. I think Aedan is going to leave Oghren at Ansburg." Not only were they going straight to Weisshaupt, but Anders wasn't going to make any more stops to talk to the circles. They'd had to wait until Anders was healed before moving on, and now time was running short. Anders wasn't looking forward to the grueling pace he just knew awaited them. When Aedan made up his mind about something, he became single minded. If he decreed that they were going to head directly to Weisshaupt,-making as few stops as possible on the way-then that was exactly what they were going to do. Never mind about a barely healed mage who hated riding and sleeping in tents for weeks on end. Nope, no one cared that Anders was going to have sores on his ass. No one cared that they were heading right into danger.

Anders thought they should go back to Vigil's Keep and make sure that Tevinter had no one in the Ferelden king's court. He'd said it so many times, but it had fallen on deaf ears. He understood why they had to go. If magisters were looking for Fenris, it meant that they were going to try to get back into the Black City. If there was anything that was warden business, it was that. It had to be prevented at all costs, and no one wanted Tevinter to have control of the wardens, the only people that could stop the blights.

Anders couldn't shake the feeling that they were about to give Tevinter exactly what they wanted if they went to Weisshaupt.

And of course, Fenris now felt like he had an obligation to go to Weisshaupt. It wasn't about Aedan anymore, either. He thought if it wasn't for him and Danarius' success, Minrathous might not be making such a bold move. Although Anders thought he was correct in a small way, he had told Fenris that if it hadn't been him, it would have been someone else, and that he couldn't take responsibility for what insane blood mages did. You couldn't predict what they would do, other than be assured they wanted power, made pacts with demons and were basically not right in the head.

Yes, that included Merrill. He felt sorry for her, but she still willingly looked to blood magic for her answers.

"I don't think Oghren likes me very much," Sebastian said, breaking Anders out of his thoughts once more. "But he is welcome here while he stays in the Free Marches."

Anders wrinkled his nose. "You're sure about that? You'll have to pay the maids extra to make sure his stench doesn't permeate your pretty castle."

"He likes you." Zevran sat up and yawned. "He just has a prickly disposition."

"Prickly?" Anders said. "He's not a porcupine. He's an old dwarf that drinks too much and bathes too little. I don't think he's aware we've even left Ferelden."

Sebastian laughed and his fingers brushed along Anders' leg. "I'm going to miss you."

Anders' stomach did that flip again and he averted his eyes. Once he would have been as blatant as Zevran, and would have attempted to get Sebastian into his bed. He felt more than a little guilty for his thoughts and the avenues his mind was going down.

He loved Fenris, but something had changed in him when Margret had stabbed him. He didn't remember much of his fevered dreams, but he had come away with the feelings they had engendered. For so long he had doubted himself and his purpose in life. He always looked to others to tell him what he was. A worthless son. A troublesome mage. An apostate. A warden. A healer. A rebel. Everyone had always wanted to define Anders for him, even going so far as to give him a new name. But he was so much more than that. He was much stronger than he had given himself credit for. Fenris had been telling him this for a year, but he finally, _finally_, believed it.

He was the man that had defied the templars time and again. He was the man that had stood with Aedan against all odds and lived to tell the tale. He had lived for years in Darktown and saved uncounted lives. He'd maintained his sanity when he'd had a spirit inside him that had been almost uncontrollable. These were not small things, and it had taken almost dying for him to see that.

So when he spoke to Sebastian, it was with a confidence he hadn't felt when he had talked to Cullen. He was arguing for something greater than himself, and for the first time he felt like it was something he could do. Maybe that's what Anders was a little bit attracted to in Sebastian. He didn't know the scared Anders that always ran when things became too hard. The Anders that questioned everything he did.

It was exhilarating, and it was dangerous.

Anders cleared his throat and reached into his robes. He pulled out the new proposal and held it out to Sebastian. "If you have time, I would appreciate it if you could look this over. We could discuss this tonight."

"This is my cue to leave." Zevran pushed smoothly to his feet. He wiggled his fingers at them over his head as he walked away. "Be good." He glanced back at Anders without breaking his stride. The look he gave him was pointed and Anders nodded once to let the elf now he got the message. 'Be good' was for Anders. Sometimes the assassin saw too much.

It was for the best that they were leaving soon. He never would do anything to hurt Fenris, and he would never betray him. But he couldn't ignore the feeling he was doing just that each time he spent alone with Sebastian.

Sebastian took the parchment and unfolded it. He scanned it quickly before setting it down on his lap. "This is… This is skirting chantry law. If you weren't leaving so soon we would talk about it at length. I…" He looked up, and his blue eyes pinned Anders to the tree. He couldn't move when Sebastian touched his leg again, this time in a blatant caress. "I know you are with another, but I…"

Anders sucked in a quick, shaky breath through his nose. "Don't. Please. What Fenris and I have… If only you knew how long I've loved him, what we've gone through to have what we do now."

The parchment with the proposal Anders had labored over all morning, was caught by the breeze and snatched off of Sebastian's lap to go flying down the lawn. Sebastian leaned forward and placed his palms on the tree trunk, his arms caging Anders' head. He gave Anders a slow, sad smile. "I do know. I can hear it in your voice whenever you talk about him. I can't say that I am sorry we did not meet in Kirkwall. I was a brother then, and my vows constrained me. Maybe the Maker is telling me it is not meant to be."

"I'm sorry," Anders said softly. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he was sure Sebastian could see his pulse jumping wildly in his neck. Sebastian was talking about more than just the lust that Anders had felt. The realization sent him reeling. He hadn't expected this.

Sebastian placed a finger on Anders' lips. "Don't be. If you weren't sorry, you wouldn't be the person I think you are." Fenris' calluses were all on his palms. Sebastian's were on his fingertips, the skin hardened from drawing a bow. The roughened digit brushed along his lips as their eyes caught and held. "Tell me you're tempted. At least leave give me the words so I know I wasn't imagining things."

"Yes," Anders admitted. "But only tempted, nothing more."

"I thank you for that at least. Fenris is very lucky to have someone so devoted to him." He drew his finger over Anders' jaw. This close to the prince, he could smell the faint musk of sweat that still clung to the man's skin. "I won't bring it up again. I just—"

"Venhedis!"

Sebastian jerked his hand away, and they both turned—Anders with foreboding. Maybe if he was lucky he was still in his bed and this all was a horrible dream. He bit the inside of his cheek and winced at the sharp pain. Nope, awake and definiately seeing an enraged elf running across the lawn towards them. He scrambled to his feet and stood in front of Sebastian. "Fenris, wait! You don't—" His lover's markings flashed. "You don't understand. This wasn't what it looked like."

"So he was touching you shirtless for another reason?" The closer Fenris got, the more Anders could see how hard his eyes had become. Power shot down Fenris' arm, encasing his hand. He wasn't armored, but Anders knew he didn't need his gauntlets to tear a man's heart out.

Sensing a threat to their prince, guards had poured from the castle and were hurrying after Fenris. Anders held up his hands, palms out towards Fenris, and shot a spell at the oncoming elf's feet. The ground before him froze, turning the grass into crystal blades. "Listen to me!" he shouted. "Don't you trust me?"

Fenris skidded to a halt. "I trust you. I do not trust him. I have seen the looks he gives you, but I have held my tongue." He called out to Sebastian. "I thought he was an honorable man, one who wouldn't wait until my back was turned."

"And I thought you would know that I would not encroach on a relationship." Sebastian stepped out from behind Anders. The mage wanted to yank him back, but he knew if he so much as touched Sebastian, he wouldn't be able to stop Fenris. Sebastian raised his hand, silently telling the guards behind Fenris to stop.

The elf's markings dimmed back down as he narrowed his eyes at Sebastian. "Touching him as you were is still encroaching. Do not play word games with me. And what would you have done if he had reciprocated? Slept with him, loved him, and then when it was time you would have thrown him away, or made him your dirty secret when you married. You would have destroyed him."

Anders gaped at Fenris. Fenris wasn;t angry that Sebastian might have been trying to take Anders away, he was upset that the prince was only trying to entice him into a relationship that could not last. Anders wouldn't be anyone's dirty little secret, and Fenris knew it.

Sebastian and Fenris stared at each other, each taking measure of the other.

"I see you touching him like that again, prince or not, I will break your hands."

Okay, so Anders was wrong, he was definitely angry about that too. But at least he had calmed down enough to talk instead of attacking. Growth was a wonderful thing.

Sebastian inclined his head. "Understood. It will not happen again, my apologies." Bending down, he grabbed the parchment from the ground, and held it up between thumb and forefinger. "We'll talk about this later tonight." He glanced at Fenris. "You should come as well."

When Fenris didn't answer immediately, Sebastian sighed. "I am truly sorry." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Margret she…" He flicked his eyes to his guards and looked away. "She was my fiancée, even though I knew what she was. Do you take my meaning?"

Anders did, and he knew the moment Fenris did as well. His eyes lost their hard edge, and he wouldn't meet the prince's gaze. "I do. But you must find another. Don't latch onto the first person that you think will make it all right again."

If anyone would understand it was Fenris. Anders knew what Danarius had made him do against his will. Anders had never lost control of his body the way the two of them had. With Justice, he did not remember the things he had done. How much worse would it have been for him if he could recall every time he had torn a man apart with his bare hands?

The prince had put up a good façade. Anders hadn't known that he was still tormented by what Margret had done to him. He should have. What did that say about him that he hadn't given it more than a second thought?

And now Anders was leaving. Who did the prince confide in? Anders had met no one that Sebastian had introduced as a friend. It occurred to Anders now that Sebastian must be lonely. His family was dead and he was surrounded by sycophants, guards and servants.

"You should visit Grand Cleric Elthina," Anders suggested. "I know she misses you. You could meet Hawke as well. I know she'd like you." He held up his hand. "Not in that way. Hawke is in love with someone already. But she's truly is wonderful and could be a great friend." Now that Anders had said it, he knew it was the right idea. Hawke had a knack of taking the broken and piecing them back together again. She wasn't perfect herself, but once you opened yourself up to her, she would do her upmost best to lend an ear or a shoulder to cry on if you needed it.

Fenris' lips twitched when he caught onto what Anders was trying to do, and the elf's shoulders relaxed. "You _should_ meet Hawke. She has her hands full with rebuilding Kirkwall, and you could give her some advice she sorely needs. The nobles have not been kind to her."

Sebastian laughed, and finally the tension was gone. "Nobles are not kind wherever you go. They love me because I make them money. I stop doing that, and they would turn on me." He turned thoughtful. "I know Lizette needs to take Margret back to Orlais. Maybe I should escort them to Kirkwall personally, and make sure she gets a contingent of templars to help her."

That brought up something that Anders had been dying to ask Sebastian about, but hadn't the nerve until now. "About that. What in the Void happened with you and Lizette. She avoids you like the blight. She said she knew you when you were in the chantry."

"Is that what she said?" Sebastian mused. He beckoned them closer so he could speak out of earshot of the guards. "She does not wish to remember the truth. When I was younger, my family sent me on a pilgrimage to Orlais. They thought seeing the Divine when she heard the prayers of the faithful every week would do my wild soul some good. Instead, I took it upon myself to seduce a young sister I met there. I thought it was a grand joke at the time. It's something I heartily regret now. Getting a sister to break her vows is not a light thing. I've been trying to get her alone so that I may apologize, but she will not speak to me unless others are around. Not that I blame her.

"Uh." He glanced back and forth between them. "This does not go beyond us. I do not wish to embarrass her."

Anders and Fenris exchanged a look. "You have our word," Anders assured him. "But you should understand, if you want to keep a secret, don't live in a place where you have Zevran residing."

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><p>Next chapter we finally get to Weisshaupt! I have been planning this for a very long time, before the boys even got to Vigil's Keep.<p> 


	50. Chapter 50

Thank you so much for all the reviews and alerts!

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><p>Fenris huddled deeper into his fur lined cloak as he waited for Anders to catch up. His horse stamped into the snow and he touched its neck to calm the animal down. He lowered the hood of his cloak and exchanged a worried look with Aedan. Anders had become quiet and withdrawn once they had crossed the border between the Anderfels and Nevarra a week ago. It had taken them a month, even with Aedan's grueling pace to making the journey from Starkhaven to Weisshaupt. They stopped only in small villages, and even then rarely. They had bypassed any major city completely. Nevarra had no warden outpost, relying instead on the Anderfels to their north, and the Free Marches and Orlais to their east and west respectively.<p>

Before they had left Starkhaven, Fenris and Aedan had toyed with the idea of making the trip to Orlais instead, but the idea was discarded when Aedan pointed out that to kill a dragon, you had to go after its heart and ignore the tail. If Tevinter was looking to take down the Grey Wardens by infiltrating Weisshaupt, then they needed to head there first. The Warden-Commander of the Free Marches, Bron, had sent some of his men to the warden strongholds of Montsimmard and Jedar in Orlais. They were no closer to Weisshaupt than Ansburg or Vigil's Keep, but Bron had felt—and Aedan agreed-that it was time the strongholds began to communicate between each other.

Communication was rare between the First Warden and the Warden-Commanders of Thedas. For the most part, the commanders preferred it that way, but when it came time for a blight,-as Ferelden proved—the strongholds were left mostly on their own to either sink or swim, while Weisshaupt ignored them to play their political games in the Anderfels. Bron was a smart man, and he knew what would happen if a blight broke out in the Free Marches. While the Free Marches were overhwhelmed from lack of manpower, they were vulnerable to Tevinter. They would be massacred before they even found the Archdemon. While Ferelden had an upsurge of new recruits after the blight, Ansburg was still small.

"Here he comes," Aedan said, his voice muffled behind the scarf wrapped around his face. It was currently snowing, and the weather had turned bitterly cold a few days ago. Fenris had never been so cold in his life, and he was glad he had not come this way to escape Tevinter. As unprepared as he had been, he would have frozen to death in a matter of days.

Fenris looked back to see Anders' horse come lumbering up the hill to them. Ahead of them stood Weisshaupt. The fortress was large and imposing. Even from this distance, Fenris could make out wardens walking along the parapet, and in and out of the front gate. The forest around Weisshaupt had been cleared for miles so that the wardens on watch could see unhindered. Fenris was positive they had already been spotted and word was spreading of their approach.

Anders reigned in his horse alongside Fenris and gazed at the fortress. "Thank the Maker. As lovely as this trip has been, I thought we would never get here." He held up his hand. "Yes, I know. I didn't want to come in the first place, but I am looking forward to being warm again. That's worth almost anything."

When Aedan and Zevran moved on to make their descent, Fenris grabbed the reins of Anders' horse and stopped his mount. He waited until they were out of earshot before whispering to Anders. "Just warm?"

"Well," Anders drawled. "I am looking forward to contending with the First Warden, seeing my fellow Anders again, and maybe preventing a magister or two from taking the wardens down from the inside. In fact, I've been looking forward to it for a month now. It's like it's my name day and I already know about the surprise party."

As much as Fenris was glad to hear Anders making a joke after a week of almost nothing, he still rolled his eyes and growled at the mage. "That's not what I mean."

"I know, love," Anders said gently. A month on the road with very few inn stays had forced the two of them to get creative in how they could be together. Fenris had taken to leading Anders out in the woods and pressing him up against a handy tree trunk, but when it had started growing colder the closer they got to the Anderfels, they'd had to stop that.

He had refused to do anything in the tent he shared with Anders. They'd tried once, but the amused, knowing looks that Zevran had given him the next morning had put a stop to that. There were some things that were just too private for Fenris, when he was with Anders was at the top of the list. The way the mage sounded when Fenris was sunk deep inside of him were for the elf's ears alone. He was possessive, and he clutched little things like that to himself. No one else would ever get to see Anders with his hair spread across his pillow, and hear his gasping moans as they escaped from parted, kiss swollen lips. He'd been able to let go enough to not want to tear the eyes out of every man or woman who sent Anders a heated look, but there were certain things he considered his alone.

Anders once told him that he thought it was hilarious that Fenris never noticed that those same people were looking at him as well.

Aedan and Zevran had no such problems. Fucking in a tent was nothing new to them, and they didn't care who heard them. More than once, Fenris had lain awake at night with his pillow shoved against his ears to muffle the sound of the two of them. As much as he liked to tease Anders about what Zevran and Aedan might be like when they were together, he'd had no wish to actually witness it, or hear it.

He now knew too much about his commander's sexual activities.

Fenris reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a thick woolen scarf like the one Aedan was wearing. He wrapped it around his face, leaving only his eyes free. As he pulled the hood of his cloak back up to hide his ears and hair, he saw Anders doing the same in his periphery.

Aedan had been very specific the night before. They were to all hide their faces and let only Aedan speak. If someone tried to converse with them, they were to remain silent. Aedan didn't trust Weisshaupt in the best of times.

Clicking his tongue, he urged his horse to follow Aedan and Zevran, Anders right behind him.

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><p>First Warden Ultan Frey did not deign to greet them at the gate—or even at all. They had expected this, and Fenris was a little relieved that they would not have to meet with the man right away. "He likes to play his little power games," Aedan had told them the night before. "If he makes me wait on his leisure, we can use the time."<p>

But Aedan and the others had been separated when they had been shown to their rooms. Zevran, Anders and Fenris shared one room, while Aedan was to stay on the other side of Weisshaupt. They could not move freely either. The first time that Zevran had opened the door to their room, a warden appeared to ask him if he needed anything. The elf had smiled and shaken his head before shutting the door in the man's face.

Anders had his ear to the door, his eyes narrowed in concentration. The room behind him was small and sparse. It held only the very basics of what they would need. One small bed was pressed against the far wall, while across from it stood a washstand and a dresser. There was no fireplace, and judging by the mound of heavy blankets on the bed, that wasn't an oversight. Frey was looking to make Aedan's wardens uncomfortable. Anders wasn't surprised. The Anders loved to test a man's mettle. No doubt the wardens of Weisshaupt had a bet to see how quickly the soft southerners would break and ask for a different room. Well Anders wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. He would freeze before he admitted how much he hated the room.

At least they had been fed. A meal of cold ham, cheese and bread had awaited them on the dresser.

As he pressed his ear to the cold wood, he strained to hear the wardens just outside their door. They had assumed—erroneously—that they were all from Ferelden. The things Anders had heard them say as they had been escorted to their rooms, had set his teeth on edge. As bundled as they were in thick furs, Zevran and Fenris still kept their lanky, short frames. The wardens that had led them through the fortress had wondered among themselves, how the people of Ferelden could have fought off a blight if they were all so small and weak looking. Anders had shoved his balled up fists into the sleeves of his robes, and jerked his eyes down to stare at the feet of the warden in front of him to keep them from knowing he understood them.

Hearing those words said in the language of the Anderfels had felt like a punch in the gut. It tapped into too many bad memories of his childhood. Hawke use to make fun of him for always screaming, 'I'll show you why mages are feared!' when he fought alongside her, but it had its roots in something far deeper for Anders. A primal urge to show every last warden here exactly what a mage could do had risen up inside him. Mages weren't frowned upon in the Anderfels exactly, but life could be hard for them.

"You know I could do that," Zevran offered. He had crawled into the bed and was huddled inside the pile of blankets. "I would be willing to bet I speak the language better than you do."

Anders threw up his hands and stepped away from the door. "If you want to listen to them talking about whose sword is bigger, then be my guest." He sat down on the end of the bed and flopped on his back. "Maker, I hope Aedan is all right."

Predictably, Fenris had started pacing the moment the door had closed and shut them inside. "This was a mistake. We shouldn't have come."

Zevran slipped from the bed, still wrapped in two blankets. "Of course we shouldn't have come." Anders only knew that he shrugged because the blanks shifted slightly. "But it was nothing that we did not expect would happen. I would be willing to bet Aedan is in a nicer room, yes? One meant to show off the new furnishings Weisshaupt has."

Propping himself up on his elbows, Anders frowned. "You mean all that nonsense in the main hall is new?"

"As of over ten years ago, yes. Looks more like a palace now, does it not?" Zevran put a finger to his lips, asking for silence as he took Anders place by the door.

What they'd heard was true, Anders grimly thought. The first Warden was King of the Anderfels in all but name now. The main hall had reflected that. Large paintings lined the walls of former First Wardens and those that had fallen killing Archdemons. "I thought those paintings were supposed to be in some memorial hall, not in the main one."

Zevran shot him a disgruntled look for speaking and then gave up his place at the door. He shuffled back to the bed and sat down next to Anders. "They are, but no longer. All the tapestries, the expensive rug, the ornate chair at the end of the room… Frey will receive the barons in a facsimile of a throne room. The only question is, was he doing this before the true king died, or is this recent? It is a very bold move to take a throne without fighting a war."

"That is not the right question." Fenris had paused in his pacing. "The question is whether it is his idea, or Tevinter's?"

"Just so," Zevran agreed.

"So what do we do? We can't just wait here until we are summoned." Anders pulled his cloak off and tossed it onto the pile on the bed.

"Did he do this before," Fenris asked. "What happened the last time you were here?"

The other elf chuckled. "The last time Aedan and I were here, we were given a wonderfully comfortable room. Aedan was feted, and I was not too politely ignored. My warden was a hero that Weisshaupt suddenly wanted to claim. They feasted him, sang his praises, and then he was told he was going to take the arldom of Amaranthine."

Anders gave Zevran a wry smile. "They ignored you?"

"Oh, they tried. They did not like that I was not a warden, and Aedan's lover. It seems I did not fit their notion of what a partner for the Hero of Ferelden should look or act like. So of course, I made myself and Aedan's relationship to me as visible as possible. I do not hide if I do not need to." His eyes had turned hard as he became lost in memories. "You will notice there are no elves here, and few women. That is by choice. You Anders have antiquated notions."

Anders held up his hands. "Don't lump me in with the rest of them. Some of the villages are remote, and never see any outsiders other than someone from the next village over. Being a warden is the only way these men will ever leave the places they were born. Weisshaupt doesn't have to conscript. They can be choosy and turn people away regularly. Me, I only joined for the scenic forays into the Deep Roads. All that crumbling, dwarven architecture and those lava pools," Anders breathed out a dramatic, longing sigh. "It makes me weep with joy when I see them." He placed a finger to his lips, considering. "Did I say joy? I meant horror, definitely horror."

"Well, I am bored," Zevran announced. He dropped the blankets around his shoulders to the bed, and walked over to the one small window in the room. He flicked the latch and pushed it open.

Snow immediately blew inside and Anders scrambled to pull his cloak back on. "What in the void are you doing? You'll let out what little heat we have."

Zevran only pressed his finger to his lips and winked at the mage. He snatched up his scarf and wrapped it around his face, covering his mouth. He rifled through his saddlebag and pulled out a small vial, sealed with a cork and reinforced with wax. Scoring the wax with a dagger, he pulled the cork free and motioned for Fenris and Anders to stand by the window.

Reluctantly, they moved to the window, Anders with more than a little trepidation. When Zevran threw the door open, Anders felt his stomach drop as the elf toss the open vial on the floor between the two warden guards. Green smoke billowed out and the two men began to cough and choke. Zevran slammed the door shut, and backed away from it. Smokey tendrils licked their way through the thin crack between the bottom of the door and the floor. Zevran didn't stop moving until his back was against the wall below the window. The freezing wind that came pouring through the window blew back the smoke that had seeped into the room.

"You're insane." On the other side of the door, Anders heard two undignified thumps as the wardens dropped to the floor.

Zevran pulled down his scarf so that Anders could see his wicked grin. "Insane and very clumsy, no? It is unfortunate that they startled me and I dropped that vial. Maybe I should leave to tell Aedan, how inept I am. With the amount they inhaled, they should be out for the rest of the night." He winked again and drew his scarf up his face and walked back to the door.

Fenris grabbed Anders by the forearm when the mage stepped forward to go after him. "No. It is safer here. He can get to Aedan quicker without you."

"Are you saying I can't be sneaky? I'll have you know I still hold the record for the most escapes from the Ferelden circle." Anders saw Zevran slip out the door in his periphery, making their argument moot.

"Says the man who thought going to the biggest brothel in Denerim, and showing off his magic was keeping low." Fenris crossed his arms. "Better only one of us gone instead of all three."

Anders waved his hand and sat back down on the bed. "Point made. But I want it on the record that I didn't think I was going to be so popular at the Pearl. I was only trying to find a free place to hide. You know, I cure some diseases in the lower regions of the Pearl's best and brightest employees, they give me food. It worked fine at first, how was I supposed to turn down some of the more grateful? That time, it wasn't my fault."

"You didn't seem to have a problem abstaining in Kirkwall for years, so I don't believe that you couldn't have refused."

Anders gave Fenris a sly grin. "Oh? And how would you know that? Were you paying attention to see if I was sleeping with anyone."

Surprise flashed across Fenris' face and he jerked his eyes away. "Don't be foolish."

Anders cupped his ear and leaned towards Fenris. "What was that? I didn't hear you."

Cursing under his breath, Fenris strode over to the bed and yanked Anders' hand away. "Yes, I was paying attention, is that what you wanted to hear? Why do you think I was suspicious of you and Hawke? I was positive you two had not slept together."

Using his free hand, Anders yanked Fenris down and pulled the elf on top of him. He smiled up at Fenris' glowering face. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear." He lifted his head up and captured Fenris' lips with his own.

The elf sank into the kiss, his body relaxing against Anders. "We sholdn't be doing this right now," he muttered against Anders' lip.

Anders pulled back, his eyes searching Fenris'. "No, we should be. We might not get the chance again, and I…" He wrapped his arms around Fenris and held him close. "There is something wrong with this place, can't you feel it?"

Nodding against Anders' shoulder, Fenris closed his eyes and inhaled the mage's scent deeply. Something was wrong with Weisshaupt. It went beyond the obvious. There was a tension in the air, as if the slightest thing would send the residents to snapping. He had thought it was only him, and his uneasiness of being in close proximity to Tevinter. But if Anders was feeling it too…

"Make love to me," Anders whispered. "Please…"

It was the whispered plea that spurred Fenris on. There was little he could deny Anders, there was little he wouldn't do for him. They fell back into their kiss, their lips moving languidly over each other.

Anders' fingers tangled in Fenris' hair and he pulled the tie holding the strands back free. White hair cascaded over his face, shielding the room from their view. All Fenris could see was Anders, framed in a field of white. He nipped at Anders' jaw, his lips abrading against the rough stubble there. Anders arched his neck back, silently pleading for Fenris to go lower.

Obliging him, Fenris trailed his lips over the mage's throat, and elicited a moan. It had been a week since he had been able to touch Anders like this, longer since they'd had access to a bed. His cock strained against his leggings, and he rolled his hips, pressing himself against Anders.

"Shit, it's been too long," Anders moaned, echoing Fenris' thoughts. He pushed at Fenris' shoulders and with one last nip on the mage's throat, he moved away.

Anders sat up and immediately began to pull his clothes off. Fernis reached for his own clothing, and what followed suit was a fumbling and hurried disrobing. Clothes were tossed off the bed, with no thought for where they might land. When Fenris' gauntlets hit the floor with a crash, they both froze, their eyes jerking towards the door.

"Asleep," Anders reminded them both with a laugh. Fenris gave him a genuine smile back. Anders stared at his lover, soaking up the expression on Fenris' face. It was nothing like the partially suppressed smiles he gave others. This one lit up his whole face, making the elf appear younger and more carefree.

They both shivered as they slid under the blankets, their bodies coming together for warmth and for the slide of skin on skin. Anders threaded his fingers through Fenris' and kissed his wrist, right where he kept the mage's hair tie. For a brief moment, Fenris allowed himself to forget where they were and why. He drifted in a place where only he, the bed, and Anders existed. Where there was only Anders' warm lips on his, and they shared breath and soft touches over sensitive skin. There was no Tevinter, or Weisshaupt. There were no wardens or magisters. There was only Anders. His breathy moans when Fenris touched that spot on his inner thigh. His scent in Fenris' nose that filled their warm cocoon they had created in the blankets, and his tongue in Fenris' mouth, gently stroking his palate.

Reality crashed in when Anders began to kiss down his chest and the blankets moved, the cold air jarring him from his thoughts. He pulled on Anders' shoulders to bring him back up. He opened his mouth and tried to form words that lodged in his throat, as Anders looked down on him questioningly.

"I love you," Fenris finally settled on.

Anders grinned at him, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling. "I love you too." He gave Fenris a quick kiss on the lips and began to slide back down him.

Fenris' hand on his bicep arrested his movement. "I… I want you to take me," he rushed out. It was a request he rarely made of Anders. He needed to get back to that place. that place that only consisted of Anders. He needed the mage around him and inside him, drowning out everything else.

Giving his face a searching look, Anders nodded. Fernis spread his thighs and hooked his legs around Anders' waist. Their cocks slid against each other, slickened with pre-cum. Fernis groaned and arched his back, as Anders' ground his hips into the elf. Their lips met, and this time it was not a slow and gentle kiss, but one meant to devour. Fenris could feel the slight burn of Anders' stubble abrading the skin on his face. The mage nipped at Fenris' mouth and caught his bottom lip between his teeth. He gave small tug before letting go.

Anders spread a hand over Fenris' side, feeling the slightly raised skin of his markings. He sent a trickle of magic through them, and Fenris cried out as his cock became impossibly hard.

"Again," Fenris demanded in a ragged whisper. His moan was strangled when he felt the magic zip through him once more, plucking his nerve endings like a harpist's strings. His whole body felt alive and hyperaware.

Anders caressed a finger over a silver swirl that looped down to Fenris' hip and over his ass, trailing magic in its wake. Fenris writhed against him, his erection bumping against Anders'. The mage glanced off the edge of the bed towards his saddlebag. He chewed on his lower lip and leaned over as far as he was able without leaving the warmth of the blankets. He stretched his arm, and was just barely able to grab the bag. He heaved it into the blankets with a look of triumph and rooted around in its contents. Finding what he was looking for, he dropped the bag off the bed, the bottles and vials inside crashing against each other when it landed.

"I hope you didn't break anything," Fenris said dryly.

"Me too," Anders agreed. He held up the vial of elfroot extract between them. "I saved what's important, though."

Fenris held out his hand and raised an eyebrow at Anders. The mage poured a generous amount out in his palm, before recapping it and tossing it in the floor with a muffle thump as it landed on his robes. With a wicked spark in his eyes, Fenris reached down between Anders' thighs. He slid his palm over the mage's sac, gently pushing it up towards his shaft. Fingers encircled the base of Anders' cock in a tight grip. Slowly, he pulled his fist upwards, twisting it in a corkscrew motion and coating the mage's erection.

Anders fell forward and braced himself on his hands, his panting breath ghosting over Fenris' cheek. "Maker, you're good at that." He twitched his hips, rutting into the elf's hand. "You need to stop… I'm going to…"

Turning his head, Fenris bit gently on Anders' earlobe, his teeth scraping over his skin. "I'm not the one moving," he said, and was gratified when he heard Anders' breathy laugh.

He slipped out of Fenris' grip and the elf wrapped his legs around Ander's waist, pressing his heels into the small of his back. Anders lowered his body until their cocks were trapped between them and rocked his hips slowly, grinding into the elf. Their lips met in a deep kiss, as Fenris used his slick hand to reach for his entrance. In the position he was in, he was only able to sink two fingers inside himself up to the first knuckle. He felt his body clench around those invading digits as his body tightened in pleasure.

Their teeth clashed as the kiss went deeper and deeper, and they each forced the other's lips open wider. Fenris began to tremble with need, and Anders was making needy sounds in the back of his throat.

Anders pulled back with a gasp, and stared down at Fenris with heated, wild eyes. He yanked Fenris' hand away, and threaded their fingers together, bringing them over the elf's head. "Love you… so much." He positioned his cock and pushed in steadily, both of them moaning with the slowness of it.

Forcing his body to relax when every muscle was poised on the edge of climax, took what little willpower Fenris had left. When Anders was finally seated inside him to the hilt, some of the urgency left them both. This time their kiss lacked the desperation it had before.

Anders rocked into Fenris, pulling back with agonizing slowness, before slamming into him hard. Fenris threw his head back, breathing out shaky breaths through his nose. Anders was laying full on him, from chest to cock. He thrust into Fenris as if he was trying to get inside the elf. This was what Fenris had wanted. He felt Anders everywhere; the mage's smell was in his nostrils, his moans in his ears, the taste of his lips on his own, his heartbeat thumping in time with Fenris'. And his eyes… His eyes pinned Fenris to the bed, anchoring him to the here and now when Fenris felt like his body was going to fly into a million pieces.

His nails dug into Anders' shoulders, scraping deep, red lines in his flesh as his body strained and writhed. Anders' cock was sending sparks dancing behind his eyelids, but it wasn't enough. "Give it to me," he gritted out.

Bracing himself on one forearm, Anders reached between them and placed a hand on Fenris' cock. He paused, stilling his movements. "You want it? You want it all?"

"Please." Fenris hissed between his teeth as Anders slammed into him, jerking him back and forcing the breath from his lungs. "I need it… want all of you." He yelled out a curse in Arcanum as magic shot along his markings and he came. He pressed the heels of his feet into Anders' ass, forcing the mage deeper inside him as he rode out his orgasm.

"So fucking hot," Anders gasped. His thrusts became erratic as he chased his own climax. "So hot… when you look like… that." He buried his face into the pillow and came with a muffled shout. His body jerked as he gave shallow thrusts inside Fenris, milking his climax. Anders turned his head and their swollen lips met, kissing slowly.

Neither one of them wanted to leave the warm haven of the bed, not even to clean themselves up. They fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms.


	51. Chapter 51

So much love for my reviewers and the people who have been following this story!

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><p>Fernis jerked awake when a hand was placed over his mouth. His eyes snapped open to see Zevran looking down on him. Zevran pressed a finger to his lips and flicked his eyes over to Anders. The mage was still asleep, very little woke him up. Zevran stepped away from the bed and beckoned with a crooked finger, then pointed at Anders and shook his head. Fernis' eyebrows drew down sharply, but he slipped out from under Anders' arm and pulled a blanket around his waist as he got up from the bed. He froze when Anders mumbled in his sleep and rolled over.<p>

Raising his finger, Fenris made a swirling motion with it, requesting Zevran turn around while he got dressed. The other elf stuck his bottom lip out in a pout, but turned anyway, giving Fenris the privacy he needed.

As Fenris discreetly cleaned himself up with the freezing water and got dressed, he wondered what time it was. There was no clock in their room, and it had grown dark long ago. He touched Zevran's back to let him know he was dressed, and the assassin turned around. Pointing at Anders, he gave Zevran a questioning look. Zevran shook his head, and beckoned once more towards him and pointed to the door. He mouthed Aedan's name, his eyes becoming serious. Fenris' own eyes widened and he turned to reach for his armor. A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he looked back. Zevran shook his head and made a gesture at Fernis' amour.

Tired of trying to communicate without speaking, Fenris grabbed the elf by the neck and pulled him in close. "Something about Aedan, and I am to go with you unarmed, while I leave Anders alone. I do not wish to accuse you of anything, but—"

"But you are right to be paranoid," Zevran surmised quietly. "You must come right this instant to see Aedan and you must not wear your armor, because you will have to be silent, yes?"

"And Anders cannot come with us?"

"No. You will see why shortly. We must hurry the guards will not be asleep much longer." Zevran walked silently backwards, tugging on Fenris' sleeve. "I do not know what to say to you to make you believe I not leading you into a trap, other than I am your friend and I ask you now to trust me."

That gave Fenris pause. If Aedan needed to see him, then it must be important. It was dangerous to be sneaking around Weisshaupt. There was a chance that Zevran had met a similar fate as Vael, but if that was the case, then Aedan was in definitely in trouble.

He gave Zevran a small nod and they both slipped out of the room.

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><p>Sneaking through Weisshaupt had been harrowing. Zevran had instructed him to step where he stepped and stop when he did. They were to not speak to each other, no matter what happened. The route they took was a meandering one. They ducked into empty rooms, and dashed into alcoves. Most of the wardens were asleep, but there were still some wandering the halls.<p>

Unlike the room Fenris shared, Aedan's door was unguarded. There had been two wardens stationed at the bottom of a flight of stairs that led up to the commander's room. They had been easy enough to slip by. By the time they reached the door to Aedan's room, Fenris' nerves were strung tight. He didn't know how Zevran could do this time after time. It gave him new respect for the blonde elf.

Zevran rapped a soft string of knocks on the door before entering. He ushered Fenris inside and shut the door quickly behind them. The room Aedan had been given was exactly like Zevran had predicted. A grand bed sat in the middle of the room, resting on a lush rug. Paintings hung from the walls, and ornately carved furniture sat below them. There was even a good sized writing desk in one corner.

Aedan looked startled. "What is he doing here? I thought we agreed not to involve them." He was sitting at the desk, a half empty glass of wine in his hand.

"Keep your voice down," Zevran insisted. "You know why I brought him here. He has to know. They need to leave."

"Zev," Aedan whispered harshly. "We already went over this. If we keep him hidden, then we can still walk out of here."

Zevran crossed his arms. "You are wrong in this. They will find out, and then what do you think will happen? They will kill him, yes? They will want to make sure that no one else sees him. Or they will use him. Maybe you think that is better?"

Growling under his breath, Aedan set his wine glass down and skirted around the desk. "Don't. You know I don't think that."

Fernis' eyes had darted back and for the between them as they bickered, a feeling of foreboding descending on him. "What did you find? Who wants to kill me? I wouldn't be very useful to them dead."

Aedan scrubbed his face with his hands and sighed in resignation. "Painting on your right, third one from the left. You'll know it when you see it." Sitting down on the foot of the bed, he rested his elbows on his knees. He steepled his fingers together, and pressed the tips to his lips. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Fenris."

He didn't want to look now. Fenris didn't want to look. Aedan's eyes… They were so world weary and full of pity that Fenris couldn't stand it. He didn't want to know what Aedan had found out, what had driven Zevran to come get him, and again chance at being caught.

The assassin touched Fenris' shoulder and turned him gently around. At first, he didn't see it, his eyes skipping over the smaller painting and looking at the larger ones instead. When he made a second pass, he counted this time.

And that's when he saw it.

He suddenly couldn't draw enough air in his lungs. He legs almost gave out and his hands flailed, grabbing onto Zevran to keep him upright. "Who… Who is that?" he choked out. He knew, though. He knew instantly who it was before Aedan even spoke.

He could barely make out Aedan's words through the buzzing in his ears. "That is a painting of a young Raimund the second, the newly dead King of the Anderfels. He looks just like—"

"Anders," Fenris finished in a whisper.

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><p>AN: So yes, I Alistair-ed, Anders. I've been planning this since around chapter ten.


	52. Chapter 52

Thank you so much for the reviews and encouragement!

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><p>When Anders woke up and saw that not only had Zevran not returned, but that Fenris was gone as well, he knew something was horribly wrong. Shivering in the cold, he slipped out of bed and hurried over to the wash basin. The drying cloth was still damp, and he knew that Fenris had not been gone long. Making a face at the dried mess on his abdomen, he quickly scrubbed himself clean. His teeth were chattering by the time he was done, and the soles of his feet had gone numb from the cold floor. Putting on his clothes did not help at first either. They were cold against his skin, and more than once he gasped from the shock as dressed. He had forgotten about this.<p>

Fenris liked to make remarks about how Anders never seemed to be able to get up easily in the mornings, but it wasn't just laziness. He had spent the first twelve years of his life being kicked out of his pallet by the single fire in the middle of their hut each morning. Being able to be in a warm bed, and stay there for a little while, was a luxury that he took advantage of. Even the small cot he slept on the in the back of his clinic in Kirkwall had been warm—damp, but warm.

Once dressed, he walked to the door, paused, and went back to snatch up his staff. The door swung open before he could cross back to it. In the doorway stood three wardens, with four more behind them helping the ones that Zevran had put to sleep get to their feet.

Anders took a step backwards and said the first thing that popped into his head. "Uh, I didn't do it."

Unlike Aedan all those years ago, _these_ wardens were not amused.

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><p>"We are leaving." Fenris was gesturing wildly, his hands punctuating each word. "I will not stay and chance them finding out about Anders. I will take him back to Vigil's Keep. He's safer there." His mind was a vortex of emotion. He still didn't want to believe that Anders and the last king had anything to do with each other. But the resemblance was striking. There had to be some mistake. But several things clicked into place for Fenris, erasing all doubt.<p>

Anders' father had hated him, begrudging his mother any time she spent with her son, almost as if he resented the boy. That resentment made sense if he had known that Anders was not his child. For reasons unknown, he had been forced to raise Anders as his own, but that didn't mean he had to treat him with love and kindness.

And his mother… Anders had once told Fenris that his mother had whispered to him as he had been dragged away by the templars, that the circle was the best place for him, and to never come back again. Anders held the firm belief that she had been disgusted with him for almost killing his father, but now… now Fenris thought she might have had another motive.

As he listened to Aedan, he turned his head and studied the painting. It was surreal to see someone that looked so much like Anders dressed like a noble. Even the man's bearing was proud and tall. But it was the eerily familiar cocksure grin that graced his lips, that had Fenris' heart seize with fear.

Anders was a warden, but he was first and foremost a mage. Mages did not become kings, especially not with Tevinter's shadow so close. No one would countenance it. An apostate king would smack too much of the magisters.

No, they would kill Anders instead, removing the perceived threat. The chantry, the wardens, or the barons of the Anderfels, it did not matter which, none of them would allow it.

He had to get Anders out of here.

"If Tevinter has infiltrated the wardens, how long do you think it will be before they turn their sights on Ferelden, if they haven't already?" For the first time since Fenris had known Aedan, he looked worried. "I can't do this alone, Fenris, and I can't take the chance that someone is with Alistair or the First Warden already, whispering in their ears. Nowhere is safe if Lizette's information is correct—not even Vigil's Keep."

Fenris slapped a hand on his chest. "I will keep him safe. No one will touch him as long as I am alive. Don't doubt my dedication to his wellbeing, Aedan."

"I don't doubt it, Fenris." Aedan ran his fingers through his thick, black hair, and some of the strands stood straight up from his head. "But will you fight all of Tevinter? Because that's just what might happen. I'm trying to keep all of us alive. If we split up, then none of us will stand a chance. If we can keep Anders out of sight, I still might be able to salvage this. Give me time enough to see if Frey is just playing more of his political games, or if something else is going on."

"I can't—" Fenris began when there was a huge pounding on the door. All three of them froze and snapped their eyes to the door.

"Shit," Aedan muttered.

Zevran hurried to the window and drew back the curtain. A dim light streamed in, signaling dawn. "We've taken too long." The pounding sounded again and the door flew open. Five wardens swarmed into the room, their swords drawn.

One of them said something to Aedan and he glanced at Zevran for a translation. "He says we are to come with them. Frey wants to speak with us."

"Only five of them?" Aedan muttered. "I feel like I should be insulted they think it would take so few to force us to come. Don't," he said when he saw a mischievous grin spread across Zevran's face, "tell them I said that."

Aedan saw Fenris' hands ball up into fists in his periphery, and one of them slowly opened, his fingers curling. "No," Aedan said, his voice modulated to hide his alarm. "Wait, Fenris."

"They are not surprised that we are here with you," Fenris said carefully. "They might already have Anders."

"All the more reason we need to go." Aedan flicked his gaze from Fenris to the wardens. "If they have Anders, then he will be with Frey." The wardens started at hearing the First Warden's name and exchanged looks.

"Fenris," Zevran urged. "We must go."

Hesitating for a heartbeat, Fenris relaxed his hands and nodded.

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><p>Not only was First Warden Frey waiting for them in the main hall, seated on his elaborate chair, but so were at least a hundred wardens. They crowded the room, and only parted enough to make way for Aedan and the others.<p>

"He woke up half the fortress," Fenris said. He didn't like the way they closed ranks behind them, trapping them in the room. His back itched as he felt their eyes on him, and his fingers flexed as he willed his markings not to flare in agitation.

"Trust me, this is only a quarter," Aedan mumbled under his breath.

When they stopped in front of Frey, Fenris' eyes darted around the room, looking for Anders. He didn't see the mage, and panic gripped him.

Ultan Frey was like his fortress. He was large, tall, and imposing. His hair was as white as Fenris', but not nearly as long, only reaching to just above his collar. His face had deep lines carved into it, as if he had spent most of his life scowling. He looked like a king sitting in judgment. His thick, fur lined boots were planted on the floor firmly, and his massive hands gripped the armrests of his chair tightly as they approached.

His heavy brows drew down sharply when they stopped in front of him. "Warden-Commander Cousland." His voice was heavily accented, making his words sound all the more harsh. "You took your time in answering my summons."

Aedan folded his arms and tilted his chin up. "We had a few unavoidable delays." He kept his tone as neutral as possible.

Frey's eyes moved over them before stopping at Fenris. His eyes narrowed slightly and then a looked at Aedan. "Do you know why I have brought you here?"

A muscle in Aedan's jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth together. "No. I am curious as to why you would deign to command me to come across Thedas. Your threats—"

A fist slammed down on an armrest. "Threats? I should ask _you_ about threats. There have been distressing mutterings coming out of Ferelden. Just what in the Void are you doing there? I hear tell that you are keeping a darkspawn in your dungeon, that you are conspiring with it. That it speaks! Yet I have not heard these things from you." He pointed at Fenris. "I hear tell of an elf that can walk the Fade without dreaming. Yet you dare ask me about _my_ threats? It seems to me that you are a threat, Warden-Commander Cousland. Now I must ask myself,-yet again-how was it that you killed an Archdemon where none before you have survived. I was content with accepting your non-answer, because it did not matter, but now I think it does."

Aedan snorted. "And why should you care? Weisshaupt wasn't there when there were only two wardens left in all of Ferelden to fight a blight. How I did it is of no consequence."

"Oh, but it is," Frey shot back. "Especially when you have as of yet addressed the other charges. Do you not have a darkspawn at Vigil's Keep, one that can speak and think on its own?"

A wry smile slipped over Aedan's face, but didn't reach is eyes. "I do."

The wardens in the room that could understand Aedan began muttering among themselves in shocked whispers. Frey slammed his fist down, calling for silence. "And him?" he nodded at Fenris.

"What about him?" Aedan hedged.

"Don't play games with me. Does he not have the ability to walk the Fade?"

Fenris shot his gaze towards Aedan as the man hesitated. It was one thing for him to spill his own secrets, but this was Fenris'. He had spent enough time with Aedan over the past year, that he could read the conflict in his body. His back and shoulders had tensed, and his eyes had become hard and grim.

"Well, have you no answer?" the First Warden demanded.

"I'm not sure what you wish me to say." Aedan shrugged. "Does he have abilities that I have seen in no other? Yes. Can he walk the Fade? No, and he would not be a fool to try, even if he could. What is this about, Frey?" The First warden scowled at Aedan's use of his name. "You ask me for transparency, and I think I deserve the same in return. What are you accusing me of?"

"I don't know, Aedan." It was obvious his use of Aedan's name was deliberate. "That's what I'm trying to find out. What would you do in my position? I hear of darkspawn that can speak has been living in your dungeon. I hear of an elf with powers never seen before. I see you, alive and unharmed after fighting an Archdemon. I hear these things after we uncovered a Tevinter plot to retake the Anderfels. I hear these things after a blighted magister managed to worm his way into my wardens, and created dissention among the ranks. I have to wonder, Aedan, if something similar has happened at Vigil's Keep, or maybe you had help when you survived slaying the Archdemon."

Fenris knew Aedan's stunned expression mirrored his own. "Would this plot have to do with mind control and blood magic?" Aedan asked slowly.

Frey sat back in his chair and laced his fingers together. "It would."

"When?"

"A year ago. I put his head on a spike when we were done questioning him. It's still there over the front gate, decorated with crow shit." Some of the wardens that could understand them chuckled.

"This isn't what you think, First Warden." Now Aedan was back to using titles. "If you wish to know of the Architect, I'll tell you. I hadn't before because…" he paused, searching for the right words.

"Because the strongholds deem Weisshaupt ineffectual?" Frey guessed.

"I…"

"Don't hedge your words," Frey said. "I know what is thought of us in the rest of Thedas. I allow the strongholds to remain autonomous, because what works for the wardens of the Anderfels, will not work for the wardens of Ferelden. You think we sit here idle, but we do not. We have survived three blights. Over half our land is inhospitable because of it. The tainted and darkspawn still roam the Anderfels. If there is no help from Weisshaupt, it is because we need every warden we have to keep our own people safe."

"Warden-Commander Bron of the Free Marches has requested several times for Weisshaupt to send more wardens. He says he's had no reply." Aedan accused.

"And he will not get one." Frey announced. "A year ago, over a third of our forces were held under sway. Many more died when the blood mage was rooted out. Until I know that he was the only one, and that Tevinter has learned they cannot play their games with Weisshaupt, then I cannot chance sending wardens to other outposts."

He glanced once more at Fenris. "Before I personally took the magister's head, he told me of a Key that had been made in Minrathous, one that would open the way to the Black City. He was very specific in describing the elven slave that had been used. A way to the Black City endangers all of Thedas. You neglected to inform me of him."

It was then that Fenris spoke up. "I killed the one that made me what I am. I have no dealings with magisters. I—"

A commotion sounded behind them and Frey pushed slowly to his feet. Fenris turned to see the wardens behind them parting to allow more wardens to come through. With a firm grip under each of his arms, Anders was half dragged between two of them, his head bowed. Fenris took a step forward, but Zevran's hand on his upper arm stopped him. The wardens halted in front of Frey and spoke rapidly to him.

"They say that he was found alone in our room, and that Frey needs to take a look at him." Zevran translated. Fenris made a strangled sound in his throat, and tried to jerk away from the other elf. "It is too late," Zevran whispered quickly.

Fenris' heart jumped into his throat as one of the wardens gripped Anders by the hair and jerked his head back. Frey shouted something that sounded like an oath. He reached out and gripped Anders jaw. Tilting his face from side to side, Frey's eyes grew wide, and then narrowed with suspicion.

"What is the meaning of this, Warden-Commander Cousland?" Frey demanded. He didn't wait for a reply before he jerked Anders' face towards his. "Who are you?"

"I…" Anders' eyes had turned wild and he rolled them towards Fenris, pleading for help. "A… Anders."

Frey snorted with derision. "Your name, give me your name."

"Stop!" Fenris shouted. He pulled free from Zevran, only to have Aedan catch him in mid-step. He struggled against the larger man. "Let me go, Aedan."

"Anders… it's Anders." The mage couldn't move away, Frey held his face tightly in his hand.

Frey took a step back from Anders and shot his eyes to Aedan. "I don't know what you think you will achieve, but this is going too far. Now tell me who he is, and why you have brought him here."

"His name is Anders and he's a mage and warden from Ferelden. Anything else you may think isn't true," Aedan assured him. He wrapped his arms tighter around Fenris.

"So his being here—"

"Is nothing but a coincidence," Aedan said hurriedly. "I swear to you, I did not know the resemblance until tonight. If you believe nothing else that I say, believe that."

Frey's eyes searched Aedan's face, weighing his words. He glanced down at Anders. "Anders is not your real name, is it? Where are you from? Who are your parents?"

Anders' eyes moved rapidly back and forth between Frey, Aedan, and Fenris. "I don't… I'm a mage. The templars, they thought it was funny to change my name. Why are you…"

It hurt. It hurt Fenris to see Anders struggling. There were no quips born of nerves, or a joke at an inopportune time. There was only Anders' shaken and confused voice. Fenris hated Aedan. He hated him for holding him back. He hated him for bringing them here. He hated him for being so calm while Frey shot rapid fire questions at Anders that he had no ability to answer.

And most of all, Fenris hated himself for making Aedan drag Anders along. He should have just left Anders behind in Vigil's Keep. At least there, the mage had been safe. But he had been selfish again, and had not wanted to be parted from him for so long. Now Anders was paying for the consequences of that selfishness.

"Where are you from? Answer me!"

"Kassel," Anders replied, an edge of panic in his voice. "We lived just outside it."

Frey tilted his head to the side, and Fenris didn't like the considering look he was giving Anders. "And your parents? If you lived outside of Kassel, then your family must have been fishers on the lake. Or maybe your father was the blacksmith. When did the templars take you?"

"I don't under… I was twelve. Why are you asking me this? How did you know my father was a blacksmith?"

When he heard Aedan's sharp inhalation, Fenris knew he had just come to the same conclusion he had. Frey knew. Frey knew exactly who Anders was. "No, no, no. Be quiet, Anders. Don't say anything more," he whispered.

But Anders couldn't hear him. "My father's name was Ivo, and my mother—"

"Was Elsie." Frey's lips grew into a smile. He threw back his head and laughed. He shouted in the language of the Anderfels and the wardens sudden cheered.

"Zevran," Aedan said over the din. "What did he say?"

Fenris caught and held Anders eyes while Zevran responded. "He said, 'We found him. Little Adelric is not dead, and he's a warden.'"

The roaring that filled Fenris' ears wasn't the sound of the cheering wardens, but the thunderous beat of his own heart.


	53. Chapter 53

Thank you all for reading and reviewing! Saying at the beginning of every chapter is not thanks enough. ^_~

A/N: For those that are interested, I started a new fic. It's a MHawke/Anders set during Awakening called The Sword of Mercy.

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><p>"You cannot be serious." Fenris stared at Anders in astonishment. "Why would you even consider this?" They both stood in the middle of the room they had been given by the wardens. This one had more comforts, including a roaring fireplace that radiated much appreciated warmth.<p>

Anders and Aedan had been locked away with Frey for hours. Fenris had waited with Zevran in Aedan's room, pacing like a caged cat. The things the two of them spoke of had sent Fenris into a tailspin of anger and fear.

"I am serious." Anders sat down on an ancient chair that had probably been in the fortress since the founding of the wardens. "They've been looking for me for years. They lost track of me when I went into the circle, and since the circles only keep phylacteries—less paperwork I imagine—they couldn't find where I'd been taken to." He ran his fingers through his jaw length hair. He had done it so many times during his meeting with Frey that his hair tie had fallen and become lost.

"Don't you realize what this means? All these years my father hated me and I never knew why. I use to lay awake at night and wonder what it was about me that drove him to…" He trailed off and blew out a slow breath. "But it makes sense now. I was never his, and he hated that he had to pretend otherwise. I don't know what my mother told him, but it was enough to convince him to claim me."

Fenris crossed his arms. "And he changed his mind after you almost killed him defending yourself."

"Exactly," Anders exclaimed. "At that point I think that my mother thought it would be safer for me in the circle. Safer from him, and safer from—"

"She did not want you to come back." There it was. Fenris could not stand by while Aedan and Anders ignored the obvious. Frey wanted to put Anders on the throne, and Aedan was backing him up. If he had thought he was angry at Aedan before, it was nothing compared to the rage he felt now. He felt betrayed by the man. He had promised to look after Anders, but was leading him down a path that was fraught with more danger than the Deep Roads could ever offer.

He didn't know if he could ever forgive Aedan for his culpability.

"She wanted you to be safe from the man you thought was your father and the barons," Fenris pressed. "Why would you accept Frey's plan? You only lived a small portion of your life here. You hate it here."

Anders reared back in surprise. "What? Why wouldn't I? I can do so much here. If the King of the Anderfels is a mage, think on the implications."

"I am!" Fenris suddenly shouted. He had to make Anders see reason, even if no one else would. He wouldn't lie and sell Anders a pack of dreams the way Aedan and Frey seemed to have. "The barons might not accept a mage ruler. Neither will the chantry. You'd be outside the circle even more than you already are now. How long do you think it would be until a Divine March was led here? How long until Tevinter comes, seeing their chance? Frey doesn't want to put you in power he wants what he had before. He wants to rule without any of the responsibility. You know nothing about what it would take to run a country. Who would you ask for help and advice if not the First Warden, the man who helped put you on your throne?"

"You don't think I can do it, do you? That's why you're so upset." Anders pushed to his feet and drew up to his full height. "You think I'll screw this up."

Fenris slashed at the air with his hand. "Someone needs to make you understand the full implications."

"You didn't answer my question," Anders said slowly, anger lacing his words. "You think I can't do this. You don't have any faith in me."

"Don't put words in my mouth." Fenris held up a finger in warning. "I have every faith in you, if you don't know this by now, then I don't know what else I can say to make you believe that. It's not you I don't trust-it's Frey and his motives. He has been playing a deep game in the Anderfels for decades. It will not be what you think it is. If anything is said of you, it is not that you are a mage, but that you are a warden, a king like the one in Ferelden. Frey seeks to make the wardens indispensable, and he will use you to gain it, just like he used Aedan, just like he used King Alistair."

Anders narrowed his eyes. "Don't you think I'm aware of that? If I'm king, then it doesn't matter what Frey wants, does it?"

"No," Fenris snapped. "But it will matter what your barons and the nobles want. Even if they accept you, your life will no longer be your own. I cannot be with you as I am now."

"Why wouldn't you be?" Anders threw up his hands in exasperation. "I—"

Fenris spread his hands wide and gestured to himself. "In case you have forgotten, I'm an elf. Do you not see how elves are treated in Thedas? The best some of us can hope for is to be useful to a human in some fashion. If not then we are slaves, servants, assassins, whores, thieves, and mercenaries, but never anything more."

Anders reached out to touch Fenris, but his hand was slapped away. "Fenris, they won't say anything. They can't keep you from me."

"Now you are being naïve." Fenris jerked his eyes away from Anders. "Did nothing that Hawke said to you when we were in Kirkwall penetrate your mind? She is in an untenable position. She cannot marry the man she loves, but she cannot also marry the way the nobles wish her to." He lifted his eyes to finally look at Anders again. "Ability to have children or no, they will force you to marry for a political alliance." He held up his hand to forestall any protests. "Let me finish. All rulers must marry at some point. Tell me that I am not speaking the truth."

Anders shook his head and took a step back. "Even if you were right, you're only speculating. I don't care what they say about us. I thought you felt the same way. I thought you said you would follow me anywhere. I need you, Fenris. If I'm going to do this, I need you with me."

For a few heartbeats, Anders didn't think Fenris was going to answer him. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and almost inaudible. "I cannot follow you in this."

"What? What are you…"

Fenris' throat worked a few times before he spoke again. "I cannot be your dirty little secret."

Reaching behind him, Anders grabbed the arm of a chair and gripped it tightly. The words that Fenris had said to Sebastian rang in his ears. "The barons… Frey… I don't care what they think. I don't care what they want."

"And I will not be pushed into the shadows. I will not be politely ignored the way Zevran is. I will not hear the slight hesitation in their voices, when they try to think of a way to address me without acknowledging our relationship. I will not stand in the back of the blighted chantry while you make your vows to another. Do not ask that of me. I will not hide what I feel for you. I did enough of that in Kirkwall, and I promised myself when I came back from the Fade, that I would never do it again." Fenris' voice had steadily risen until he was shouting, his face twisted with pain.

"I am a Tevinter elven ex-slave. Even if I was only one of these things, I would not be fit to be a consort for a king." Striding over to Anders, Fenris reached up and cupped his cheeks in his hands. His thumbs smoothed circles over the stubble on Anders' jaw. "Until I met you, I did not know my own worth. I do not recall every wanting anything for my own before. If I ever had dreams other than wanting to feel Danarius' heart my hand, then they are gone with all of my other memories." He pulled Anders' face down and touched their foreheads together. "I do not tell you these things, because I know how pathetic it sounds. The words stick in my throat, and I feel like I'm choking on them. There are days when I want everything from you, and I hate myself for it. You're not a slave, and I would never…"

It was then that Fenris knew what he needed to do. He could not ask Anders to give up something that would give him the power to change the lives of mages, even if it was just in the Anderfels. As much as Fenris disagreed with some of the things Anders said it would be like asking Fenris to change the fact that he was an elf. Neither of them could become something they weren't. Anders was a mage, and if he was king, he would become something more.

Who was Fenris to stand in the way of that?

Anders reached up and gripped Fenris' wrists, his heart thudding in his chest. "Lov—"

"Let me finish," Fenris said harshly. "I need you to understand. I need…" Fenris closed his eyes. "I love you. You are the first good thing I have ever done. I have a life now because of you. I have a purpose beyond my hate and my need for vengeance. Whatever the magisters made me into, whatever I am now, I can use that to fight the creatures they helped create." He opened his eyes and his lips twitched into a smile. "I see it as poetic." The smile fell away and he shook his head. "But don't ask me to go back into the shadows of a nothing life. I won't do it."

"It won't be like that, love," Anders assured him. "I promise you."

Fenris took a step back and pulled away from Anders. "Do not make promises you cannot keep." Fenris felt something inside him crack and fall away, leaving an empty space. Zevran—more than anyone—understood his pain. As they had waited, the assassin had quietly told him the reality of the Anderfels and the royal court. He had calmly explained that Fenris would not be welcomed there, and that he would be a target for assassination, or-worse still-be used against Anders. Zevran was very clear when he spoke to Fenris. Anders would have everything he wanted, but Fenris would not.

"I want you to have everything in this world that you put your mind to. I do not ask that you deny Frey and Aedan their request, but I cannot be with you in this. Not as we are now. I'll see you get your throne if that is what you wish, but then I will leave to go back to the Vigil."

Anders looked stricken and his mouth worked a few times before he could speak. "Don't do this."

"I have to. I will not hide what I feel for you, but I won't be so selfish as to ask you to deny your birthright. You would hate me if I gave you such an ultimatum. Maybe not at first, but slowly over time it would eat at you. I would rather not have you at all, then have you with me and hate me for it." The wrenching of his heart was a physical thing and Fenris fought to not double over from the pain. The look of horror on the mage's face tore Fenris apart and almost crumbled his resolve. But no, he knew this was the right thing to do. Frey had put them into an untenable position. He turned and walked to the door, placing his hand on the latch when Anders spoke.

"Don't act like you're doing this for me," Anders snapped. "Don't pretend like this is about anything else other than your insecurity."

A part of Fenris screamed at him not to leave, that he was being a prideful fool. He hesitated at the door. What if Anders was right and it wouldn't be as Zevran had described it? Could he take that chance? He wasn't Zevran, and lacked his innate talent to let comments roll off of him like water.

"Then don't be an asshole," Anders shouted. "I'm not going to let you leave like this. You made a promise to me, Fenris, and I'm going to hold you to it. You promised me that Hope would see us have a better life together." Fenris could hear the sob in Anders' voice. "You promised me that if we both had hope, that she would see us in the Fade and grant our wish. You swore to me that we would be together in this life and the next, was that a lie? Was it all a lie?"

Fenris whirled around and strode back to Anders. "No! But I won't allow myself to be used to get to you. I know you Anders. I know you well. You would do anything to protect me, as I would you. Zevran told me—"

Anders threw back his head and gave a bitter laugh. "Zev? Zevran Arainai the ex-Crow? The one that sees plots within plots? The one that spends every waking moment thinking of ways Aedan can fuck him? What in the Void did he tell you?"

"He told me that the barons would not allow a mage king."

"True, but there is nothing they can do about it," Anders said.

"He told me that they would hate that I was your lover."

Anders crossed his arms and tapped his foot in thought. "Also true, but I don't care."

"He said that if you tried to reform the circles in the Anderfels, the Divine would try to force you off the throne." Something niggled at the back of Fenris' mind, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Now that was a little too much." Anders grinned and wiped at his face with his sleeve. "Let me guess, the marriage part was what set you off? You must have been in fine form when he started talking to you. You know, you really have to stop listening to him when you're angry. He'll only tell you what you want to hear in order to force you to get mad and get over it. He does it to Aedan all the time, drives him nuts."

There it was. He should have known that when every word Zevran said had struck a chord with Fenris, that there was something wrong. The blonde elf was always just a bit too helpful. Before they had left Starkhaven, it had been Zevran who had helpfully told Fenris that Anders was outside, and oh, by the way, Vael looked delicious with no shirt on. He had missed the mischievous twinkle in Zevran's eyes, because he had not wanted to see it.

He had been so wrapped up in his own insecurities and fear, that it had taken little prompting from the assassin to send Fenris into a decline.

Fenris growled in his throat. "I'm going to murder him."


	54. Chapter 54

Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing, and sorry this chapter took so long.

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><p>Time passed slowly for the creature. Day or night did not matter, only the relentless pain and anger remained. During its moments of clarity, it knew where it was.<p>

Weisshaupt.

Grey Wardens.

Locked in one of the abandoned griffon aeries, high on top of the fortress, it had one thought in its mind.

Revenge. Revenge against those that had bound it. It would make them suffer for what was done and how it was being used.

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><p>Fenris was the first one to realize something was horribly wrong.<p>

At first, it had started so slowly that it had gone unnoticed by the elf. But as two weeks passed, Fenris could no longer ignore the changes inside of him.

Or what was coming out.

It was like a dam had cracked and broken, and everything that he was came flooding out, overflowing and drowning everything that he did and said.

He was so angry. And the hate, the hate was a barely leashed thing. He hated Aedan for his culpability in convincing Anders to take his throne. He hated Zevran for using his insecurities against him. He even hated Anders at times. With those fucking robes, and that blighted staff, Anders was becoming what Fenris had thought he never would.

A mage with a thirst for power.

Anders had changed. He held himself straighter, and his voice was laced with a confidence that he'd never had before. It'd been something that Fenris had always wanted for him, and now that he had it, the elf couldn't help but feel that his lover was slipping out of his grasp.

When he wasn't angry, his subconscious whispered in his mind, sending tendrils of doubt that he had always tried to keep locked away. Doubt that he'd thought he'd gotten passed.

But they came anyway, telling him that Anders no longer needed him, that he was correct in thinking that all mages only saw him for what they could get out of him, that Anders never saw him, the real Fenris, but a tool to be used.

At night he clung to Anders desperately, muttering words of love and need against his skin. Fenris felt pathetic and weak. He'd become one of those fools had had always pitied, the ones that lived only for their lovers and lost themselves completely in the process. It was unhealthy, and it invariably led to destruction.

Most of all Fenris hated himself.

Anders barely deigned to speak to him anymore, and wouldn't even meet his eyes in the morning. He was always busy on important business. Always. And Fenris was not welcome, and didn't Fenris understand?

Fenris understood all right. He understood that there was more than a kernel of truth in his fears and doubts.

There was no room for an elven ex-slave in Anders' new life, and the mage was making that abundantly clear each day.

Fenris wanted to scream at him that Anders had been the one to lie in the end. But like a coward he said nothing, because he did not want to lose what little time he had left with him.

One evening, Anders had come back to their room to see Fenris sitting on their bed, a dagger in his hand and his hair scattered around him like the torn remnants of their relationship. His hair now shorn as short as it had been when he first came to Kirkwall, Anders had said nothing.

Fenris didn't know what hurt worse. That Anders had not seemed to care, or that Fenris had done it in a fit of passive-aggressiveness in the first place. He had felt like an Orlesian courtesan, throwing a tantrum in order to get her lover to pay attention to her.

This wasn't like him.

This wasn't like either of them

He had no one to confide in. Years before, he would have laughed if someone had told him he would miss the way he could tell another of his problems and concerns. But now that he'd lost that connection, he felt even more adrift.

Aedan… Aedan had changed as well. He had become violent and cold, less of a friend, and more of the hard ass Warden-Commander.

Zevran was no different, but his change had taken on a more disturbing form.

He had cornered Fenris more than once, his hands moving over the other elf's body. He would whisper in Fenris' ear that Anders didn't want him anymore, and couldn't Zevran comfort him? Fenris felt disgusted by the way his body would react then. He'd grow hard in his leggings, and for just the briefest moment, he would think about how lonely he had become. Even Zevran's version of love was better than the indifference he got from Anders.

But even though he had cut his hair,-the hair he had kept long for Anders despite how much it aggravated him-he still wore a beaded hair tie around his wrist. As long as he had that and Anders' body each night, there was still hope.

And that hope was dying, as everything around Fenris began to fall apart.

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><p>The dining hall at Weisshaupt was more than triple the size of the one at the Vigil. Wardens crowded a room packed with tables and benches. The sound of hundreds of men eating at the same time was almost deafening and disorienting. But it was background noise to Fenris as he locked eyes on the table across the room.<p>

He was not seated at the long table set on a dais with Aedan, Frey and Anders. He was relegated to the opposite end of the room with Zevran. The food tasted like ashes in his mouth as Anders said something to Frey that had the First Warden throwing his head back in laughter. Fenris tightened his hand around his knife, as images danced in his head of leaping over the table the thrusting it into Frey's skull. Or better yet, he could forego the blade to shove his hand into the man's chest. Maybe the next First Warden wouldn't underestimate him then.

Next to him, Zevran flirted outrageously with the wardens at their table. Fenris growled in the back of his throat and tried to ignore the way the men were leering at the assassin. Zevran was acting no better than a whore plying his trade. And the wardens… the wardens paid were definitely paying attention to him now.

It seemed that the Anders had a use for elves after all, even if it was just for a bit of the exotic in the bedchamber-or in Zevran's case, on the floor. The other elf slipped under the table and one of the wardens gasped in surprised and then moaned his appreciation. Fenris curled his lip in a disgusted sneer.

But how was he any better than Zevran these days? Each night he crawled to Anders on hands and knees and begged the mage to fuck him.

His eyes rested on Anders and his thoughts turned violent. Anders was one step from setting himself up as a magister. He was a mage with powerful ties to the wardens, and would soon become king if he had his way. He cared not for the chantry and their divine laws. What was to prevent him from abolishing the circles in the Anderfels completely? What was to prevent him from allying with Tevinter, the country that Anders had always professed to admire?

Nothing.

Nothing but Fenris.

Anders had shown his true self in the Anderfels, and Fenris felt betrayed. All mages were the same. Give them a taste of power, and they only wanted more. Even Hawke, who he counted as one of his good friends, wanted power. She had gone into the Deep Roads to gain money to return her family to their former glory, and she was now Viscount of Kirkwall. Maybe Anders regretted that Fenris had helped to drive Vengeance from him. The mage had been diminished since the demon had left. He had never spoken much about it, but the topic came up more and more often of late. But Anders was now confident and strong in his own power, using his magic indiscriminately for even the most minor of tasks. He had always taken pride in his ability to heal, but now he would use it for mundane things like lighting a fire.

And what did that make Fenris?

A thrall to another mage, that's what. A slave who begged for the meager scraps of affection from their master. Even their lovemaking had turned sour. Anders took the lead now, fucking Fenris until the elf was pleading and writhing under him, using his brands against him to spur his lust onto terrifying heights.

Fenris had not escaped Danarius. He had only run to another mage, one that in the end was just like all the others.

As the conversation buzzed around him, a thought wormed its way into Fenris' mind. The moaning of the warden next to him. The laughter of Frey and Aedan. Anders' boisterous voice. The noise clamored and clanged in his ears, resonating in his skull until all thought but one was drowned out by the din.

He had to stop Anders.

He had to kill him.

He had to…

His brain stuttered to a halt and Fenris shot to his feet, stumbling over the bench behind him. He had to get out of here. His eyes darted around the room. This wasn't him. He would never…

It came to him, like a splash of cold water. Frey had told them that the blood mage he had killed had created dissention among his ranks, but what if he hadn't been the only blood mage in the fortress? None of them were acting like themselves, or more, they were acting too much like themselves.

Fenris with his anger and self-loathing.

Aedan with his cold command.

Zevran with his lust.

Anders falling into the role of king-to-be so easily, and eschewing everything else.

It was like something had reached inside each one of them and pulled out their deepest, most secret selves and showed it to them in the light of day. Their psyche was cracked, and their inner most selves were bleeding freely, leaking out to stain their every thought and action.

That very first cold night they had spent in Weisshaupt, Fenris had been feeling it even then. He had told Anders there was something wrong with Weisshaupt, and the mage had agreed. But it was so much more than either of them had assumed. It was like a miasma, a taint that permeated the very stones of the fortress. Fenris had needed Anders that night, just as he had needed to be consumed by him every night since. It wasn't that his feelings weren't real, but that they were more, twisted and corrupted until he had felt naked and vulnerable.

A whispered thought in his head told him that he was wrong, that Anders was at fault. Fenris squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the sight of the mage. He took a few calming breaths and opened them again, looking around the room with fresh eyes.

A few wardens were fighting in one end of the room, their fists flying while their comrades-in-arms were urging them on.

The warden near him gasped and groaned, and his head tilted back in ecstasy.

Just like the main hall, paintings and tapestries heralding the glory of the Grey Wardens hung from every wall.

Aedan looked upon Anders, not as an old friend who had fought alongside him and saved his life more than once, but as a tool, with cold, dispassionate eyes.

And Anders…

Anders looked every inch a mage king. His hair was neatly pulled back, and his face cleanly shaven. He even wore robes that were far richer than those he was use to-a gift given to him by Frey. Even his bearing had changed. He sat straighter in his chair with his shoulders pulled back. There was no hesitation in his speech, no fear of what he was about to embark upon and why. He was Adelric, and he was the rightful heir.

Fenris' heart was pounding in his chest from the force of his realization.

The fight he and Anders had. He had capitulated so easily. And Anders had agreed to Frey and Aedan's plan. There had been no second guessing himself. There had been no bemoaning of the responsibility that was about to be thrust on him.

He had agreed.

And there had been no talk of running.

Fenris had thought it was because Anders was finally coming into his own, no matter how much he hated it. But there were certain things in this world and the next that would always hold true. One of them was that Anders-Anders the mage, Anders the apostate, Anders the Grey Warden, Anders the healer of Darktown, Anders of the mage rebellion-would never set himself up as king.

He loved his students at Vigil's Keep.

He loved his work with Wynne.

He loved his friends.

He loved Fenris.

This was not that Anders.

And Fenris would never, _never_ in all the life he had left with the mage until Anders' Calling finally came, think to hurt him.

Now the anger that consumed Fenris was all his own. The difference was tangible. Something was trying to tear them apart, and cause them to hurt each other, either emotionally, or physically. And if there was anything that Fenris would kill for, it was to prevent Anders from being hurt.

Fenris' brands flared in his rage. And it was a testament to how far gone the whole dining hall was, that no one so much as blinked. Magic was not his area of expertise, but he did know one thing.

Demons and blood mages, once killed, their magic died with them.


	55. Chapter 55

Thank you all for reading and reviewing!

A/N: Word of warning, I'm getting sick. I'm hoping it won't interrupt my writing.

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><p>The creature twisted and writhed as it felt its bonds begin to loosen. There was something here, something he knew. It was helping the creature, whether it realized it or not. Opening its blood flecked mouth a scream of anger was ripped from its throat. It echoed in the aerie to be drowned out by the snowstorm raging just outside.<p>

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><p>Aedan was the second to realize something was wrong.<p>

He sat next to Frey and listened with half an ear as the First Warden and Anders bantered while they ate.

Ambition drove him, and the noble that had been raised to lead was brought to the fore. When he looked at others, he no longer saw them as his friends, but tools that could be used to further the warden cause.

The gnawing guilt that had been his constant companion since the night he had left the bedside of the only woman he had ever slept with was gone. In its place was pragmatism, a knowledge that he had done the right thing, and he and Alistair had survived for a reason.

They were both meant for greater things.

As Frey laughed at something Anders said, Aedan felt his eyes narrow in disdain. Frey didn't realize what he had, not completely. Anders would become King of the Anderfels, Aedan would see it happen. Fenris had access to the Black City, and all of the answers to the questions the wardens needed to fight the blights, maybe even end them completely. Frey was shortsighted. Once he had Anders before him, there was no more talk of Fenris and what he could do. The First Warden could play all the games he wanted in Weisshaupt, but the new king's loyalty would be to Aedan, not to Frey.

If there was anything that Ansburg had taught Aedan, it was that the wardens needed to come together. To do that they needed a strong leader-and Frey wasn't it. They already had a warden king in Ferelden, and soon they would have one in the Anderfels.

A flash sparked in Aedan's periphery.

It felt like a veil had been torn from his eyes. The tankard of ale he had been bringing to his lips almost fell from nerveless fingers. Memories of the things he had done and said over the past few weeks tumbled through his mind, and he began to shake from the force of it.

Encouraging Anders to listen to Frey and backing the First Warden up as he tried to convince the mage to take his throne.

The plans he had to unite the wardens under his rule, and then to storm the Black City.

How he'd noticed that Anders and Fenris were growing apart, but he had done nothing to stop it.

Maker, he had even encouraged it. He had thrown his own lover at Fenris, and tried to seduce Anders once himself. He had needed Fenris by his side, not Anders'. He and Zevran had tried to bind the two of them to the wardens in other ways, while they tore them apart from each other.

It had made a horrifying sense just moments ago. But now… now Aedan felt sick. He scanned the dining hall, but did not see Zevran. How could he have done it? How could he have sent the one person that meant everything to him out to whore himself? Aedan had many regrets in his life, but he did not regret undergoing Morrigan's ritual. It had given him many years with Zevran, and Maker willing, he would have a few more.

This wasn't like him.

This wasn't like any of them.

His eyes halted on Fenris who stood at one end of the room, his brands glowing with their special inner light. The elf's face looked just as horrified as Aedan's must have. Fenris gave a slow shake of his head and nodded towards the massive doors that led out in the hall.

* * *

><p>"Fuck. Shit. Mother fucking… What in the Void is happening?" Aedan and Fenris were in a secluded alcove, away from prying eyes and ears.<p>

"I do not know, but I would wager that Frey did not get rid of his blood mage problem," Fenris said dryly.

"You make it sound like an infestation." Aedan's jaw was set in an anger that was all his own. He hated blighted blood mages. They didn't come at you the way a proper opponent should. Instead they lied and deceived. That was Zevran's territory, not Aedan's.

"Zev…" Aedan buried his face in his hands. "Maker, the things I did to him. How is he ever going to forgive me?"

Fenris—wisely—had chosen not to inform Aedan where Zevran was. "He will forgive you the way I forgive Anders and you. This was not of our making."

"Bullshit." The explicative exploded from Aedan's mouth. "This _was_ our doing. If we weren't who we were, would we have done the same things? Maker, I was going to use you to storm the blighted Black City. Am I insane? Why would I ever think that's a good idea?"

Fenris shrugged with a nonchalance he did not feel. "And I was going to kill Anders to save the world from the magisters. We were not ourselves. Something is preying on our most secret selves and bringing them to the fore. I don't know why I was able to break free, or why you were either, but we need to take this time and stop it from happening again."

"Fuck." Aedan slapped a palm against the wall. "We need Anders. I don't know shit about what kind of magic it would take to do something like this, or even what to look for."

"We can't take the chance." It pained Fenris to say it, but he knew it was true. Until they figured out why he and Aedan were free, there was nothing they could do for Anders and Zevran. "We don't know how many in the fortress are affected, or for how long."

That set Aedan off again. "Shit. Mabari fucking damn it. Frey said they killed the blood mage a year ago. But Bron said he's been sending missives to Weisshaupt for years. That fucking asshole Frey lied to me and I didn't see it. He told me he didn't send Bron an answer because he didn't know which of his men were still corrupted. But it's been going on longer than that. No one had heard much from Weisshaupt in years. Even before I became Warden-Commander of Ferelden, Weisshaupt was known for being ineffectual."

"Then we start with Frey," Fenris pointed out, his voice taken on a deadly tone. "What was it you told me before we left Starkhaven? The best way to kill a dragon is to go after its heart and not its tail?"

Aedan gave Fenris a wicked grin. "I've always liked you, Fen. You're good people."

As Fenris gave him a small smile back, he left himself lighten for the first time in weeks. There was still hope. He lightly ran his fingers over the beaded hair tie wrapped around his wrist.

In the end, hope was all they had.

* * *

><p>Fenris and Aedan were fighters. They didn't do subtlety. The two guards that stood in front of Frey's study were sprawled unconscious on the floor, knocked out with a few solid punches from Aedan. The commander cracked his knuckles when they found that the door was locked. He lifted a booted foot and kicked at the wood, splintering the door frame and tearing it off its hinges.<p>

"Old place," Aedan explained as he walked in. "I don't think Frey ever expected anyone to just barge in."

The walls in the room were lined with tall bookshelves that reached the ceiling. Fenris trailed a finger over the dust heavily coating the books. "I don't think he reads much."

"Not much need to." Aedan was riffling through the drawers of the massive desk that sat in the middle of the room. "Although I'm thinking that might be a mistake. We only know so much about the darkspawn." He gave a triumphant cry as a lock he had been trying to pry open broke free. "Zev's right, he is rubbing off on me." He pulled out a pile of papers and split them in half.

Fenris picked up a missive and scanned the contents before moving on to another. He still read slowly, but thanks to the efforts of Anders and Hawke, he was competent at it now. Some of the letters he couldn't make out, the lines were too scrawled or cramped for what literacy he had. These he set on the pile Aedan was going through.

"This is interesting," Aedan said. "It says here that Ansburg hasn't been the only one to request for help from Weisshaupt. The two outposts in Orlais asked several years ago for reinforcements. A blood mage made it into the ranks and tried to take them down from the inside." He reached for another. "And now this one says they no longer need help, but that Tevinter is up to something and to keep a sharp eye out."

"I'm surprised they warned him since he ignored their initial letter." The letters Fenris was looking at were nothing more than memos that had been sent to Frey from various wardens in the fortress.

"I'm not. Orlesians might be pompous assholes, but they at least remember their manners from time to time."

Something caught Fenris' eye and he went back to an earlier missive he had discarded. "I was led to believe that the wardens no longer had griffons."

"All died out." Aedan looked up sharply. "Why?"

"Because, someone told Frey that, 'the griffon has been fed, per your instructions.' And in this one," Fenris picked up the other letter. "The writer asks if they should be concern that the griffon seems to move of its own will."

Both Aedan and Fenris rolled their eyes towards the ceiling. "Shit," Aedan muttered. "What's up there?"

* * *

><p>Anders was the third person to realize that something was wrong.<p>

He was in the middle of talking to Frey when he suddenly faltered. His fork clattered onto his plate and he sucked in a shocked breath.

What was he doing?

Guilt and anguish swamped him and he bit back a cry of pain. The things he had done to Fenris… He had ignored his lover at best, or treated him like a dog at worse. Fenris was suffering, and for what? For Anders' ambition? Was being king worth losing Fenris? Because that's exactly what was happening.

And him… king? Why would he ever agree to it? No one would accept him. It would cause war. He had seen what had happened to Aedan when he had first become arl. Aedan had been raised a noble, and he still had made so many mistakes. Those mistakes had cost lives.

Anders didn't kid himself. He knew how he was. He might have grown up enough to work with Wynne on circle reform, but he was no king. Blood did not make one a ruler, despite what people thought. It took more than that, and Anders didn't have the disposition for it.

He used to run a free clinic in Darktown for Maker's sake. Organizing a group of mages in Kirkwall to start a rebellion was one thing, listening to nobles gripe about taxes was quite another.

They would make him marry, Fenris was right. They would make him marry some woman he had never met, or worse yet, someone he had—like Hawke.

Panic clawed at Anders and he felt like he was choking on it. Dimly he was aware that Frey was asking him if he was all right. Andraste's knickerweasels, what had he gotten himself into? What had he done?

This wasn't like him.

But as soon as the realization had set in, it was gone again. Anders blinked and a tankard was pressed into his hand. He took a deep, fortifying drink at Frey's urging. "There you go. Boar didn't agree with you?"

Anders blinked again and shook his head. "Yes, that must have been it. I feel… strange." He glanced on the other side of Frey to see that Aedan was gone. That was just as well. Aedan thought that Anders didn't know what he was doing, but the man underestimated him. He wanted to use Anders for the same reason as Frey did—to further the wardens. It wasn't going to happen. Anders had his own agenda. He would create an Anderfels as a haven for mages. Where Tevinter went wrong, he would do it right. Let the Chantry come if they must, the Anders were fearsome warriors and have withstood onslaughts from Tevinter and the darkspawn for centuries.

The only thing stopping him was Fenris. His lover had made his feelings clear in the past. Mages should not have the freedom that Tevinter granted them. Once he realized what Anders was up to, he would try to prevent it from happening.

Anders wasn't about to let him do that.

He would show them why mages were feared.

* * *

><p>"And you never noticed anything amiss when you were here before?" Fenris asked. He and Aedan had stopped by their rooms to gather their armor and weapons, and were now making their way to the abandoned griffon aeries.<p>

"What was I to see? That the First Warden was a fool with too much power? I saw that easily enough. But I never felt anything like what we've been experiencing." No one stopped them as they strode through the fortress and up spiraling stairs. It was as if Weisshaupt did not see them as a threat, and it rankled.

That was until Aedan abruptly stopped and Fenris almost ran into his back. "Maker…"

Aedan had led them to a less used portion of Weisshaupt. He had seen the aeries once before, many years ago, and still recalled the way. The stones here were older than other parts of the fortress. Some of them had been worn smooth from centuries of wear, while others were chipped and cracked. Snow blew in from arrow slits that no one had ever bothered to cover, piling drifts on some of the steps.

In the middle of the spiraling stairs they were climbing was a tear in the Veil.

It was a tangible thing. Where the stairs moved upwards, a second set was superimposed. It was disorienting to stare at it for too long, and Fenris jerked his eyes away. "I think we have our answer."

"Or a part of it, at least," Aedan agreed. "Shit, I hate the Fade. It takes everything inside you and brings it out, the good and the bad. It twists what…" He trailed of and Fenris finished for him.

"…what you are. It's your every dream and every nightmare." They both looked at each other in silence.

"We haven't been in the Fade this whole time, have we?" Aedan asked carefully.

Fenris shook his head. That was one thing he was sure of. "No. If I was in the Fade outside of dreaming, Justice would have come for me by now. But," he added. "That doesn't mean that something didn't come here."

"The Baroness," Aedan suddenly snarled. "Many years ago I fought a pride demon that came through a tear in the Veil. I killed it, but it managed to manifest itself without possessing a body."

"I didn't think that was possible." Fenris took a step back from the tear.

Aedan's face was grim. "It is. We have to find whatever came through." He pressed his back to the wall and slid along it to move around the tear. Fenris followed suit. He could feel it now, the slight pull the tear had on his brands. At one point they lit up when his foot slipped in a patch of snow and he came close to falling in. Aedan's quick hand on the back of his armor saved him.

Once around it they ran up the stairs, their weapons drawn. At the top, two wardens stood by a door. They looked startled when Aedan approached and drew their own weapons. It was hard going for Fenris in such close quarters,-his massive sword could be a determent at times- but they dispatched the two of them quickly.

Aedan flicked the blood off his sword, and he reached for the latch. It was unlocked, as if no one had ever expected someone would come. Aedan flung open the door and rushed inside with a cry, his shield held out in front of him.

The aerie had a large opening in the roof to allow the massive griffons to easily fly through. Like the stairs, snow had piled up in the center of the room. Large alcoves that had once housed the griffons ran along the wall of the circular room.

"Maker, preserve us," Aedan cried. His shield and sword clanged when he dropped them to race across the room.

Chained upright with a filthy blanket draped across his nude body, was Zevran. The assassin's eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. Fenris could see that his right leg was broken. His face was swollen and bruised, and oozing cuts marred his chest.

"Aedan…" Fenris called.

But Aedan ignored him. He was pulling at the pins that held Zevran's manacles closed. "Wake up, Zev. Wake up."

"Aedan!" Fenris shouted this time. Zevran dropped into Aedan's arms and the commander took them both to the ground.

Aedan's hands moved over Zevran's body. "Come on, wake up, Zev. Shit. Shit. Wake up."

Even if Aedan wasn't listening to him, Fenris had to be the one to state the obvious. "If that's Zevran, then who's in the dining hall?" Everything was falling into place for him, and he couldn't stop the torrent of words. "Why didn't we see it?"

Why hadn't Fenris seen it? From the beginning, Zevran had been whispering in Fenris' ear. He's the one that had led Fenris to the painting of the last king. He's the one that had told Fenris that Anders would no longer need him.

All his doubts had stemmed from the things Zevran had said to him.

The doubts had already been there, but Zevran had been the catalyst that had caused those seeds to bloom into thorny branches.


	56. Chapter 56

A/N: So the story has one-two chapters lefts after this.

I have been planning to end certain things here for a long time, but now I am wondering if the boys should be sent to Minrathous. Should I go with what I had planned? Or should I continue on and end it after one more story? I don't want to keep going if it seems to people that it should be done.

What do you think? 

* * *

><p>A warden whispered in Frey's ear and the First Warden shot his eyes to Anders. He murmured something back and waved the warden off. "We have a problem. It seems that Cousland and Fenris have attacked wardens and broken into my office."<p>

Anders' eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. "What? That can't be right…"

"Can't it?" Frey tilted his head to the side. "I told you this day would come. Aedan Cousland is going to try and usurp my position. If he succeeds, who's to say that he won't try and take your throne next?"

Lifting a tankard of ale to his lips, Anders took a slow sip. "That's ridiculous." But the doubts began to worm their way into his mind even as he spoke his denial. He'd seen the way Fenris had been looking at him lately-part sorrow and part anger. He knew what his lover was thinking. He didn't think that Anders could do it—rule a country. It had opened his eyes as to how Fenris truly saw him. He thought Anders was an idiot, a foolish mage that cracked jokes and took nothing in life seriously.

But Anders was so much more than that, and it was time that Fenris understood that as well.

Aedan had been looking at him differently too. Anders could feel the cold calculation behind his eyes, and he knew that Aedan had plans, plans that involved Anders.

Or so he'd thought.

Now he wondered if Frey wasn't right. The wardens were a powerful political force in the Anderfels. Would it be a stretch to find that Aedan Cousland had aspirations for far more than First Warden?

Anders gritted his teeth. It was a habit he had picked up recently, and he didn't know where it had come from. There were evenings where his jaw would ache from having clenched his teeth too many times throughout the day.

Maybe it was time he showed Fenris and Aedan that he was not to be trifled with. They both thought him weak and ineffectual. Anders rose to his feet and pulled his staff from its customary place on his back. "Where are they?"

If he had been looking at Frey, he would have seen the faint glow to the man's eyes that flared for the briefest moment. "Up in the griffon aerie. I'll show you the way personally."

* * *

><p>Aedan held out his hand for another health potion. Fenris slapped an opened one in his palm and the commander gently poured it down Zevran's throat. They had gone through three bottles, and Zevran's wounds had healed, including the break in his leg-thanks to Fenris. The elf had watched enough of Anders' lessons to be competent enough to set the bone before a healing potion had been administered. He could only hope that the break had been clean, or else their efforts would be for naught.<p>

Zevran still would not wake up.

He had groaned once or twice in pain, but he had not once opened his eyes. Aedan was becoming frantic as he demanded over and over for Zevran to wake up and look at him.

Something was keeping Zevran unconscious.

If only Anders were here. He might be able to tell them what was happening. Fenris got to his feet and paced the room as his teeth gnawed on a gauntlet covered knuckle, kicking through the snow as he went. He had to think. He'd been around some of the most powerful magisters in Tevinter. Hawke was one of his first good friends. Anders was his lover, who liked to collect books that the Chantry frowned upon at the best of times, and at the worse would kill him for possessing, books that he had taught Fenris to read from.

He stopped as a thought occurred to him and whirled on Aedan. "Did the demon that you fought come through the tear in the Veil in its form?" Aedan was stroking Zevran's hair and ignored Fenris. The elf walked over to him and knelt down. He grabbed Aedan by the face and forced him to look at him. "The demon that you fought before, did it come to this world in its form?"

Aedan's mouth worked silently and his eyes shone with unshed tears. He blinked a few times and one tear fell down his cheek. "I…" He swallowed heavily. "No. it had possessed the body of an Orlesian baroness. It eventually consumed her and took her form."

Fenris sucked in a deep breath through his nose. "Is it… Is it possible that whatever has assumed Zevran's form is…" He waved his hand in the air as he searched for the right words. "I don't know, is consuming him as well? Zevran isn't a mage, but could a demon try to take him anyway?"

Face screwing up in thought, Aedan's eyes flicked over to Zevran. "Demons can take anyone. It's just easier if the person is a mage. I know that Anders once had a cat that had been possessed by a rage demon." He laughed under his breath, but it lacked its usual mirth. "But he could've been lying about it."

"We need to kill the demon," Fenris insisted. "We can't do anything for Zevran or Anders until we do."

* * *

><p>Fenris and Aedan had taken off their warden tabards and wrapped Zevran up in them. The assassin was still cold, and Fenris was worried that he might have a case of hypothermia. They had to get him some place warm and safe before they could go after the demon.<p>

Before they could even reach the door, Zevran cradled in Aedan's arms, it flew open. Anders stood in the doorway, his arms enveloped in a fire spell. Behind him stood Frey, another warden and… Zevran.

Anders' eyes widened when he saw what was in Aedan's arms before narrowing again into angry slits. "What game are you playing, Aedan?"

With his sharp eyes trained on Anders, Fenris replied instead. "No game, Anders. I need you to step away from… the thing behind you… Zevran." He held out his hand for Anders.

It was just like when Fenris had freed Anders from Vengeance. Fenris was once more holding out his hand for Anders to take, silently pleading for the mage to trust him, as he had trusted him so many times before-as Fenris trusted Anders.

This time, Anders laughed.

"You really do think I'm a fool. I know what's going on here. You both are conspiring against me and Frey. You're trying to turn me against Zevran-the only friend I have left."

"Anders," Fenris began. "Don't—"

"Shut up! You're always telling me 'Don't'. You're always calling me a fool. Well guess what, _Leto_. I don't need you anymore. Your plans to kill me and Aedan's plans to use me end here." Anders slammed the end of his staff into the ground, punctuating his words. Flames erupted in a line that sped towards Fenris and Aedan.

"Move!" Aedan shouted. They both dove to the side, Aedan taking the brunt of the fall to the ground for Zevran. He rolled to his feet and stood in front of his lover, pulling his shield and sword free.

Fenris had never seen Anders use a spell like that before. The heat from the blast had melted away the snow in the room, and steam rose from large puddles. He drew his massive sword from its sheath on his back and held it defensively in front of him. "Anders, please listen to me."

"So you can tell me more lies?" Anders' hands and staff rose with a flourish. A ball of condensed flame floated in front of him, growing larger as Anders spoke. "So you can tell me how much you love me while at the same time you try to hold me back? Justice and I had such grand plans, and you ruined them all! I won't let you take this away from me too." With a flick of his fingers he sent the fireball shooting towards Fenris.

He was too slow, and the fireball grazed his shoulder as it passed. Searing pain radiated down his arm, and Fenris had to grit his teeth against it to avoid dropping his sword. The fireball crashed behind him, sending flame and stone flying.

Behind Anders, Frey grinned wickedly. His eyes glowed with an inner light, and Fenris growled to see it. It wasn't just Zevran, it was Frey as well, the man who had been whispering in Anders' ear for weeks. "Aedan!" he called.

"Yeah… Yeah, I see it," Aedan said grimly.

Frey, Zevran, and… Fenris' eyes widen. That warden… he didn't know his name, but he had seen him before. He was the one fighting in the dining hall while others cheered him on. How many demons were loose in Weisshaupt? How long had this been going on? A fissure of fear race down his spine, and he ruthlessly pushed it aside.

"You can't have him!" Fenris yelled. "He's mine!"

Frey laughed, touching Anders' shoulder and the mage's eyes glazed over. "But he is so delicious. He has such pride. It was a small spark, but didn't take much for it to grow."

Pride…

Fenris' eyes darted to Zevran.

Desire…

The warden who had been fighting in the dining hall.

Rage…

They were feeding. They were feeding on them all. The demons didn't care about the Black City, or that Anders might be king. They didn't care about the wardens. They simply saw them as a meal, one to be cultivated like a farmer with livestock—and it had almost worked.

It still might.

"The blood mage," Fenris asked between gritted teeth. "Did he summon you?"

This time, Frey's laugh rang hollow. "That fool? He thought to deal with us—enslave us. He didn't realize that we did not need him. We fed well before we killed him, just like you will feed us well."

The desire demon ran a hand down Anders' arm. "Him, we won't kill just yet. Already he grows stronger with us. Once he's consumed we'll become king, and our feast will never end."

The hair on the back of Fenris' neck rose at the demon's words. They _did _care about who Anders was. "No! I won't let you!"

"You'll be dead," Frey assured him. "And this will no longer be your concern." As one, the pride and desire demon lifted their hands away from Anders. The mage's eyes became lucid once more.

"Fenris," Aedan hissed. "If we can't kill them, we'll have to—"

"Don't you dare finish that thought, Aedan. Don't you dare." Fenris would make sure the whole of Weisshaupt burned before he let Aedan kill Anders. Rationally, he knew that Aedan was right. If they couldn't be stopped, they couldn't allow Anders to be used and their reach spread to the whole country. Look at the damage that had already been done with the wardens.

But Fenris' heart rebelled at the thought. Rationality did not come into play where he and Anders were concerned. Nothing about them was rational. A slave from Tevinter and an apostate had nothing in common on the surface. Who cared about rationality? The heart could not always be reasoned with.

Especially not Fenris'. Maker knows he'd tried.

"Arguing against killing me?" Anders lifted his arms and flames shot up his staff. He whirled his staff and fire snaked out of it like a whip. "Or are you still trying to make me believe that you care?"

Fenris raised his sword and blocked the end of the whip from striking his face. It wrapped itself around the blade and the steel closest to the fire turned red hot. As Fenris watched in horror, the red steel became white from the heat, and Anders gave a sharp yank on his staff. The sword snapped in half and Fenris dropped what was left to shield his face with his hands as molten metal flew at him.

Hot steel droplets landed on his ear and he howled in agony. He used the tips of his gauntlets to claw at his skin in a vain attempt to stop the pain.

"Enough!" Aedan slid into a battle ready stance, his shield in front of him and his sword raised. "We're ending this now." With a cry, he charged forward.

Through the pain of his shoulder and ear, Fenris let out a cry of dismay as Aedan reached Anders. But the commander didn't strike at him with his sword, instead he bashed his shield into the mage, knocking him to the side. Anders flew backwards and slammed into the wall, dropping his staff in the process.

Weaponless, Fenris resorted to the only other thing he had to fight with. With a growl of anger, his brands flashed, enveloping him in their iridescent blue light.

Several things happened at once.

Zevran—the real Zevran—opened his eyes with a gasp.

Anders gave a cry of shock.

And the demons… they showed their true forms.

It was like a sausage casing had split, unable to hold everything inside any longer. Rips appeared in the guises of the demons, and flesh and clothing fell away. Aedan backed up immediately as the much larger forms of the demons crowded the stairs and the doorway.

That was it… That was what had woken Fenris and Aedan up-Fenris' connection to the Fade.

The demons were massive, and as they squeezed through the doorway, the stones around it cracked and broke. The pride demon was twisted and ugly, its flesh mottled with lumps. It was by far the largest of the three. Pride was huge. It demanded attention. Pride would fill a man and make him larger than life, even if it was in his own mind. The rage demon's features could barely be discerned in the flame it was comprised of. It growled, a sound that was eerily familiar to Fenris. He had made that noise so often, that Anders had said he should write a book on how to interrupt Fenris moods. While in contrast, the desire demon was almost too beautiful to look upon. It was mesmerizing, and hermaphroditic. It was sin, it was want, and it was need. It was more than just pure lust, it was everything a person coveted. It beckoned and seduced with power and riches. The three of them comprised some of the worst traits in mortals—the wardens from Vigil's Keep especially. That all of them were old and powerful, there was no doubt.

And they had obviously been feeding well for years.

They got a look first hand where Anders got the power for his fire spells. The rage demon lashed out with its arm the second it was in the room, sending fire roaring towards them. Fenris raced to one of the alcoves and slid behind it for safety, while Aedan dropped to his knees in front of Zevran and ducked his head behind his shield, protecting them both. His shield grew red from the intensity of the heat, and the twin griffons of the wardens that had been painted on the front melted away.

The demons had lost their hold on Anders and the mage got to his feet. He looked shaken, and his eyes were wide while tears ran down his cheeks. Fenris wanted to go to him, to wipe that look from his face, but the demons were in between him and Anders, and he didn't want to call attention to the mage.

Aedan was bunkered down behind his shield, unable to move from his spot in front of Zevran. The pride demon's enormous fists were pounding on the metal, creating dents as the shield took the brunt of the attack.

As they had bundled Zevran in their tabards, Aedan had explained to Fenris that the only way to repair the tear in the Veil, was to kill the demon that had stepped through. Or at least, that was how he had done it before. He hadn't known if there was another way.

There were only two of them against the demons. Aedan would have called it good odds, but that would have come from a man that tried to take on an army of darkspawn with only Anders, and talked about it as if it had been fun and not the impossible odds it had been.

His mind made up, Fenris stepped further into the Fade and charged.

* * *

><p>The guilt ate at Anders. It felt like a yawning pit had opened up where his heart was and he was being dragged down into the abyss. How could he have done it? How could he have tried to kill his friends and Fenris? Maker, he had hurt Fenris badly. Not just physically, but emotionally. Anders wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and wish the last few weeks away, pretend like it never happened.<p>

But it had.

Maker, it had, and the knowledge weighed him down into inaction.

He felt like he was watching someone else, and he was screaming at the man to move, to fight, and to do something other than just standing there. He let out a choked sob. He felt so powerless. What kind of man was he that he had let demons into him time and time again? He gave great lip service about blood mages, but was he any better? He had been about to trade the lives of those he cared about the most for power and glory that he hadn't known he'd wanted.

A hand slid up his arm and Anders' skin crawled at the contact. He rolled his eyes to the side to see the desire demon smiling at him. "You want so badly to make this all go away… I can taste it." It licked up his cheek and Anders shuddered, whether in disgust or need, he didn't know.

Aedan was on his back now, his sword on the ground next to him. He was using both arms to hold up his shield and repel the pride demon's attacked, but Anders could see that he couldn't hold out much longer. A bright flash went off in his periphery and Fenris came rushing out from an alcove. He was almost too quick for Anders to see as he ran towards the pride demon. He leapt up on the pride demon's back, and sunk his fingers into the creature for leverage as he climbed. The demon roared and swung its arms back wildly in a vain attempt to pull Fenris off of it.

"I can take this from you. You won't have to remember their deaths." The desire demon was kissing his throat, and Anders groaned. He could feel its horns brushing against his cheek, a stark reminder that it wasn't human.

"No…" Anders whispered. "No."

With a cry of triumph, Fenris made it to the thing's head. Anders watched wide eyed as the elf plunged his hands into the demon's skull. "Aedan, move!" Aedan rolled away, dragging Zevran with him. Once they were clear, Fenris ripped his hands free, taking the demon's brain. The pride demon didn't make a sound as its life was abruptly snuffed out. It collapsed, sent Fenris falling to the ground. The elf landed with a crash and a scream of pain.

Anders jerked towards Fenris, but the desire demon had taloned fingers gripped tightly on his arm. "Oh, poor dear, it looks like he broke his arm." It clicked its tongue. "One word from you, and he could be healed again. I could give you the power to do it. I could give you the power to take his brands away. He would just be another elf, nothing special to the magisters. Don't you want that, Adelric? Don't you want to help him and make sure he never suffers again?"

Maker, it knew what to say to him. It went right into Anders' soul and saw all the things he had ever wanted. Yes, he wanted that. He wanted Fenris to have true freedom. The magisters would never stop coming for him. They would never stop searching. How long could they pretend that the Vigil was safe? It had never been so.

"I could give that to you." Desire nipped at his earlobe. "Let me in… Say the words."

When Anders didn't reply, the rage demon moved in. It opened what passed for its mouth, and a great river of flame-one to rival the lava falls in Orzammar-erupted forth. Anders' heart stopped when his vision was obscured by fire. "Don't," he breathed. Then louder, "Stop!"

And it did.

The fire winked out, leaving a trail of smoke and charred stones behind. The only sounds in the room were the crackling fire of the rage demon, and Anders' panicked breathing. Where were they? Where did they go?" A head with white hair streaked with soot, peeked out from behind an alcove wall. Anders' eyes darted to the other alcoves to see Aedan glance out as well. He let out a sigh of relief that was short lived.

"Don't you want to save them? None of you can hope to win. Submit now, and we will spare them." Desire cupped Anders' jaw and turned his face back towards it. "We'll make you king. No one will be able to stand in your way. You can free the mages in the Anderfels. You can free Leto." Then it went further, finding hidden desires that Anders had never known existed. "With us by your side, you could march on Tevinter, and get revenge for what they have done to your lover. We could bring the circle tower of Minrathous to the ground. All of the knowledge of the Imperium would be yours for the taking. You will bleed them dry, as you conquer and destroy. None of the magisters would think to harm what is yours again. Nothing would harm either of you again."

Anders sucked in a shaky breath. Andraste, he wanted that. He hadn't known how badly until the demon spoke. He would have the resources to hunt down and kill those responsible for making Fenris what he was. He could find them and make them suffer as they had made Fenris suffer. He could take everything from them; their power, their riches, their loved ones, their memories, and finally their lives. As he looked into the demon's slitted eyes, Anders saw it all unfold before him. His breath seesawed through parted lips, and he felt himself grow hard.

The demon pressed itself against Anders and the mage could feel its own answering arousal. His head tipped back against the wall and his eyes rolled in his head. "Say you'll let me in," the demon moaned. "Tell me that you want me as much as I want you."

The rage demon roared and Anders' eyes snapped back into focus, snatching him from his dream. Fenris was standing in the middle of the room before it, the broken half of his sword in his only working hand. "Don't listen to it, Anders. I believe in you." Fenris' face was raw and pleading.

The desire demon hissed and it sounded much like a snake. "Don't be a fool," it told Anders. "You will all die here."

Anders' hands shook as he raised them and pressed them to its chest. The demon's skin was soft and smooth, and he could feel its nipples harden under his palms. "There is one thing I want…"

The demon purred. "Tell me, and it will be yours."

Taking a step forward, Anders locked eyes with the demon. "I want you to die." Arcane bolts shot out of his hands. The desire demon screamed in shock and pain as the spell tore through her. Blood and gore splattered on Anders, coating his face as the demon fell dead.

That only left the rage demon.

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><p>The battle with the rage demon was the hardest physically. The aerie was large, but not big enough to battle a creature of that size with any efficiency. Fenris could not touch it, so we was left to fight with his broken sword, slashing at its fiery appendages.<p>

As he and Aedan fought the demon, Anders huddled next to Zevran. He simultaneously finished the healing job on the assassin, and threw wards and healing spells on Aedan and Fenris. It took everything that Anders had, and by the time the creature was killed, leaving nothing but a charred spot on the floor, Anders found himself slumped over Zevran.

Now that the fight was over, Anders had time to think. The reality of what had been happening at Weisshaupt crashed through him, and he began to cry, loud hiccupping sobs. An arm wrapped around his waist and he turned his head to bury his face in Fenris' shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you so much, I didn't mean... I'm sorry… sorry…" he breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell of blood, smoke, and Fenris' unique scent.

"There is nothing to apologize for." Fenris placed a kiss on the top of Anders' head, despite the fact that he was still covered in demon blood. "None of us were ourselves."

Anders' head jerked up and he almost collided with Fenris' jaw. "Don't lie. It was us. It…" Fenris' broken arm hung limply at his side. He had a fresh burn on his face, and were the skin wasn't an angry red and blistered, it was bleached almost white with pain.

"No." Fenris cupped Anders' jaw gently in his hand. The mage could feel the slight scratch of the clawed tips from Fenris' gauntlet on his skin. "It was only a twisted version of us. But it was not us. I would never hurt you, and I know that you would never hurt me. Not the way… Not the way we have been. I can only hope that you can forgive me."

Anders gave a choked laugh. "You can't have it both ways. You're right, if it wasn't us, then there is nothing to apologize for."

As Fenris leaned in and gave Anders a lingering kiss, one with all the warmth that had been lacking the past few weeks, Anders knew two things to be true.

That it would take time to erase the things they had done while under the influence of the demons.

And that the one thing Anders would not let time take away, was that Fenris had believed in him.


	57. Chapter 57

A/N: Thank you for your input everyone! I was worried it would be like a tv series that had gone on too long, and maybe should have quit while they were ahead. But I have ideas, and you guys are game, so let's do it!

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><p>"Your move, my friend." Zevran leaned back on a chaise lounge, his leg propped up on a number of pillows. Next to him was a small table with a checkered game board.<p>

"Don't rush me." Fenris lifted his arm—the one not bound in a sling—and his hand hovered over the First Enchanter game piece. He locked eyes with Zevran and watched how the other elf's eyes gleamed. They had played hundreds of game over the past week, and Fenris was becoming well versed in Zevran's tells. With a small smile, he moved his hand over to the Circle Tower and slid it two squares over.

"Arg!" Zevran threw his hands up. "Why do I play with you anymore? You have me cornered yet again."

Fenris leaned back in his well-padded chair. "You play with me because you are as bored as I am and Aedan told me to keep you occupied."

Zevran waved him off. "Yes, yes. And the last time I was bored I got myself caught." He pointed at his leg. "Where does Aedan think I will go? He believes I am fragile now, no?"

"As fragile as I am apparently." Fenris tapped his fingers on the table. His arm itched and it was a chore to resist scratching it. Anders had assured him it was part of the healing process. The burn on his shoulder and face had been healed, thanks to Anders, and only his ear would bear a scar. It was a discoloration towards the tip, the skin shiny and stretched. His arm and Zevran's leg would take longer. Both of them had not been able to seek treatment quickly, and now were paying for it with a slow healing process.

It was the same every day. Anders would escort Fenris to Aedan and Zevran's room, pick up Aedan, and leave Fenris behind to keep the assassin company. After the death of the demons, the tear in the Veil had closed, assuring them more than anything that there were no more demons to be found in Weisshaupt. But the memory of what had happened to each of them still lingered, and none of them wanted to be left alone.

Although Zevran's wounds had been healed, he was still gaunt from his time in captivity. He had explained to them that when he had been lucid, he had been perfectly aware of what was happening to him. The demons and the wardens under their control would come daily to torture him, weakening him and making him pliable for the desire demon. He had become connected to it, and his dreams would be plagued with images of what the demon was doing while in his guise.

But once the demons had been destroyed, it had broken their hold not only on Zevran and the wardens from the Vigil, but the rest of Weisshaupt as well. Some of the wardens had known what was happening, but had been powerless to stop it, while others had been so enraptured by the demons that they had turned on their brethren when the demons' hold had broken. Zevran, Aedan, Anders and Fenris had found chaos throughout the rest of the fortress.

After making sure that Zevran was secured and bolted in his room, Aedan had led Anders and Fenris into the fray, rallying the more lucid of the wardens behind him. Already depleted from their battle with the demons, what ensued was a fight that lasted hours. A quarter of the warden population at Weisshaupt was dead by the time they were done, and half the fortress had burned.

And Aedan had been declared First Warden.

Frey had been dead for years. Just two days ago, a warden led Anders and Aedan down into the bowels of Weisshaupt and shown him Frey's body. It was still manacled to the wall and wearing the armor of his rank. Other than that, it was unrecognizable, rats and time taking their toll and leaving nothing but a decimated skeleton behind.

Not all the wardens in Weisshaupt had known that Frey was not what he seemed. The knowledgeable few-ten in total-had banded together, waiting for their chance to strike and free the fortress.

That chance had never come.

The blood mage had arrived instead, halting their plans. The pride demon disguised as Frey let the blood mage roam unhindered in Weisshaupt. Wardens began to disappear, never to be heard from again. That is, until their bodies, or what was left of them, were discovered by enough people that Frey couldn't pretend to do nothing, or it would have given itself away.

The ten that were aware of what was happening had their hands full with hunting down the blood mage in their ranks and preventing more deaths. They couldn't take on the demons and the blood mage alone, so they had waited, and bided their time.

Once the battle was over, they were the ones that had taken up the cry to make Aedan First Warden. Aedan who had been covered in the gore of the wardens he had been forced to kill-Aedan who hated bureaucracy. But as Anders had pointed out several times on the way to Weisshaupt, the Anders people respected skill with a sword above all others. Aedan had proved he was willing to fight to protect the wardens, and he had done it well.

"It is only payback for how you treated Anders in Starkhaven. He had been well for a week before you allowed him the freedom to leave the bedchamber. Unless," Zevran raised an eyebrow and a sly smile appeared on his face, "you were keeping him bedridden for other reasons, then I approve."

"He cuts my meat for me," Fenris mumbled. "Like I'm a child."

Zevran moved his Templar. "It is because all of you are acting like one."

"Pardon me?" Fenris knew where Zevran was going with this, and he was surprised it had taken the assassin this long.

He shrugged. "All of this apologizing the three of you do to each other and me. What is done is done. Nothing can change what happened. Anders apologizes to you and Aedan for trying to kill you both. Aedan apologizes for trying to use you and Anders-and to me for fucking a demon every night. The three of you apologize to me incessantly for taking so long to free me. Now unless you and Anders would like to apologize to me the way Aedan does with sex, then I do not wish to hear it anymore."

If Fenris had been paying attention to the game, he would have seen that his next move had been a bad one. Zevran crowed in triumph as he moved his Knight-Commander, and knocked the First Enchanter from the board. "Right of Annulment. I win."

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><p>Anders hated the way that everyone was looking at him. He and Aedan sat in the library in Weisshaupt—little used if the dust was any indication—with some of the older wardens of the fortress. With Zevran incapacitated while he healed, it had fallen to Anders to translate for Aedan. He was a bit rusty, and if a warden spoke too quickly he would have to ask them to repeat themselves, but slower.<p>

Aedan was working tirelessly to map out exactly when everything had gone wrong in Weisshaupt, and for how long. From what he and Anders had been able to gather it had been over a decade, at least. The fortress was in poor condition and the wardens even more so. There was no order in Weisshaupt, and only the older wardens could say with any accuracy when the last time was that an expedition into the Deep Roads had been made. Sure, they went out into the countryside when villagers came to them complaining of darkspawn incursions, but they did no more than that. Some of the younger wardens had been here for years and had yet to see a darkspawn.

Aedan was appalled.

He blamed himself, Anders knew it. He could hear it every time Aedan spoke and the way his words would be tinged with sorrow. But how could he have guessed that the man he had met all those years ago was not who he said he was? Anders thought Aedan should feel lucky that he and Zevran had been able to leave Weisshaupt alive. Not all tears in the Veil were visible. Anders surmised that with Weisshaupt's bloody history it had grown over the years. The arrival of the blood mage the carnage he had enacted could have torn it far enough for even those without magic to see it. But that was just his well educated guess.

But it meant that the Wardens of the Grey had been more leaderless than they had initially thought. Instead of an indifferent First Warden, they'd had none at all. Aedan could grouse that he was not cut out to be First Warden all he wanted. Anders knew it wasn't true. He was in his element when he led. In a few years, he had turned the Grey Wardens of Ferelden from only two men, to a well-disciplined fighting force of over a hundred. If anyone could rebuild Weisshaupt to its former glory, it was Aedan.

And not Anders.

He had spent weeks playing king, and it seemed the wardens weren't going to forget it. When they spoke to him their tone held a note of respect. Some of them wouldn't even meet his eyes. They asked his opinion on trivial things, as if what he had to say had any bearing on the matter.

He was King Raimund's bastard son and he had helped free Weisshaupt. Those were no small things. But they looked at him as if they expected something from him, and Anders had a sinking feeling that he knew what it was.

He couldn't do it. He wasn't going to lie and say that he didn't want to go and live in a palace and be waited on hand and foot for the rest of his life. Who wouldn't want that? But the responsibility… He had seen how lonely Sebastian Vael had become. How much more lonely would Anders be with the Anderfels so far away from everyone he knew and loved? Fenris would stay with him. He had told Anders that if the mage chose to follow through with taking his throne, then he would be at his side. But Anders would have to give up everything he believed in just to obtain something that he had never even dreamed could be his.

He was a mage for Maker's sake. The freedom he had fought for almost all of his life would be snatched from him in an instant. Palace life would be no better than the Circle, and there might even be the same amount of templars if the Chantry took it into their heads to watch him. Sure, he would be fed and clothed well, he would have a roof over his head and nothing from the outside world would touch him, but his life would no longer be his own.

He would never be able to compromise his hard won freedom, especially not for a country that he had no ties to. One could argue that the wardens were as much of a cage, but Anders didn't see it that way. His commander allowed him the freedom to pursue his goals with Wynne. He allowed Anders all the banned books he could buy from the black market in Amaranthine. He allowed Anders to teach young warden mages the skills they would need to know in order to save lives. These were no small things.

In fact, they meant everything.

How could Anders walk away from that?

He couldn't. He just had to figure out a way to make sure that news of who he was did not spread out of Weisshaupt.

This morning he had asked Aedan for permission to leave Weisshaupt. He would need three weeks at least, and promised he would be back as soon as his business was done. He had to go back where it all started, to the village he had spent the first twelve years of his life in. He had so many questions and he prayed that someone there would be able to answer them for him.

That Fenris was coming with him, there was no question. Although he would have a hard time riding with just one arm, Anders couldn't imagine going without him.

Aedan said they could leave whenever they were ready. He would take his meetings in his room with Zevran, Maker help him that the elf wouldn't be bent on mischief.

Anders thought that was a pretty hard thing to ask the Maker to do. After all, he was only a deity.

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><p>The three week estimate might have been a bit optimistic. It had taken Anders and Fenris two weeks to reach the outskirts of Lake Kassel. If they hadn't been avoiding some of the well-traveled roads that led to Hossburg and the capital itself, it might not have taken them so long. As it was, they thought it would be prudent to bypass Hossburg and any villages on the way. Kassel was a few days ride form Hossburg, and neither of them wanted Anders to be recognized.<p>

As they went further north it became colder. At night the two of them would huddle together under a thick pile of furs they had brought with them, while the wind and snow buffeted their tent. Anders had never been so miserable. All right, so he had, but when he woke up each morning with the knowledge he was going to have to leave his warm haven and get back on the road, it didn't feel like it.

His complaining drove Fenris insane, especially since it had been the mage's idea to go in the first place. But Fenris didn't say a word. He had only recently gotten Anders back—his Anders—and if the mage wanted to complain long and loud about everything from his sore ass and thigh muscles from the long ride, to having to melt their water each morning, then Fenris would let him.

Fenris knew he was only doing it because he was nervous. It was no small thing that he was doing. Fenris didn't know if anything could ever drive him to return to Minrathous. Some memories were better left alone, or lost and gone forever.

But Anders had to know. He just had to. Why had his mother kept this from him? Why hadn't she ever told him?

They were a half a day's ride from the village, and were finally bunkered down for the night. As with every night, the two of them had their arms wrapped around each other, fully clothed and under a heavy pile of furs.

"I hate the Anderfels!" Anders shouted. "I hate the snow. I hate the mountains. I hate the blighted furs that smell like wet Oghren. I—"

"Hate the blighted land. You hate the horses. You hate having to piss in the freezing cold. You hate having to burn horse shit for a fire. You hate the hard tack we have to eat. You hate the random darkspawn we run into. You hate the wind. You even hate the perpetually clouded sky. Am I missing anything?"

The only part of Anders peeking out from under the furs was his eyes, and they crinkled in amusement. "I don't hate you," he offered.

"Well, thank the Maker for that." Fenris slipped his hand under Anders' tunic, and his nails scratched lightly on his skin.

"Maker be praised, for he is good!" Anders grinned to hear Fenris chuckle. It hadn't been all complaining on Anders' side. The two of them had done a lot of talking about what had happened to them at Weisshaupt. It was a wound that had needed to be purged, or else it would have begun to fester, killing off everything between them. The only thing to do that had been to cut it open, letting everything putrid out in the open air. It had been painful at times, but the two of them were stronger for it.

Fenris rolled over on top of Anders, his hands braced on either side of the mage's head. Two days ago, Anders had declared Fenris well enough to stop using his sling. He had a suspicion that Fenris had been using his arm and hand when Anders wasn't looking. With Anders' magic and his own body's healing process, Fenris only felt a slight weakening in his arm, but nothing that he could not recover from given time.

Tilting his head back, Anders gave Fenris access to his throat. He moaned and spread his legs, wrapping them around Fenris' waist. He had missed this so much. The ease in which Fenris and he shared their bodies and hid nothing from each other, was something that Anders had never had with another person.

Once that connection had been gone, a part of Anders had gone with it.

He tunneled his fingers through Fenris' hair and pulled his head up for a kiss. He missed the way those silky white locks would slide through his fingers and over his body. But he had to admit, Fenris with shorter hair was just as good, if not better. He just wished that Fenris hadn't cut it all off in the way he had, with pain and self-recrimination.

But no, he had to stop thinking about it. Berating himself couldn't change anything.

Fenris' tongue dipped into Anders' mouth, and what had once been a sweet and slow kiss, turned harsh and demanding. He'd missed this too. Fenris took what he wanted in their bed, and Anders was always willing to give him anything he demanded.

"Tell me how you want my cock, Anders."

Like that. Just like _that_.

"Do you want it between those lips of yours?" Fenris' tongue rasped along Anders' lips. "Or do you want it down your throat, so deep you're choking on it?" He thrust his tongue inside, prying Anders' mouth open wide, putting words to action. "Maybe you want me to shove it in your ass so hard, that you'll feel it on the ride the next day, reminding you how much you begged me for it and how you screamed my name."

All of that… Maker, _all_ of that. Anders wanted it all. He wanted it however Fenris wanted to give it to him and more. He groaned against Fenris' lips in reply. When he tried to grind his aching erection against Fenris', the elf clamped a hand on his hip and pressed him back down, denying him even that much relief.

"You haven't earned it yet, and you haven't answered my question. Where do you want it Anders? Which one of your greedy holes do you need filled?"

Fuck, that was filthy. Fenris knew how much Anders loved the juxtaposition of Fenris, with his cultured tones, saying some of the dirtiest things in his ear. Anders' clothes were suddenly too tight and constricting. He was trapped; in his clothes, beneath Fenris, and under the furs. He could do nothing but moan and pant into Fenris' mouth.

And listen.

"How about what I want?" Fenris' voice was low and raspy. "I want you to get on your knees. I want you to bend over, spread your ass wide, and hold yourself open for me. I want to see your balls tight with need and your ass clenching as it waits for my cock to fill it.

Anders dropped his head back, and he stared up at the canvas ceiling of their tent as he sucked in a breath through his nose. Fenris moved to the side and Anders hurriedly slipped out of his clothing from the waist down. He rolled over and got on his hands and knees. The tent was chilly, not nearly as cold as it was outside of it. Still, his skin prickled with the cold. He bent down and pressed his face into the rolled up fur that served as their pillow. Some of the hairs got caught in his stubble and pulled as he turned his face to the side. He could feel more than see Fenris move behind him.

Reaching behind himself, Anders pulled his ass cheeks apart. Cool air was soon replaced by warm breath as Fenris moved in to get a closer look. A single finger traced around his entrance, and he felt it spasm in response.

"That's it," Fenris breathed. "That's what I wanted to see."

Anders almost lost his grip when Fenris' tongue touched his perineum. He licked a wet path down to Anders' sac, and when he took one of his balls into his mouth, Anders began to tremble. His cock twitched, and he was sure there was pre-cum leaking freely from the tip.

His nails dug into his ass, giving him a slight sting of pain as Fenris licked back up. The elf's tongue swirled around his asshole, moving closer and closer to the entrance with each completed circle. Anders cried out into the furs, his voice muffled, when Fenris darted his tongue inside. His body had a mind of its own, and his hips rocked backwards, fucking himself on the tongue inside him. Fenris' nose pressed into the crack of his ass, and he shivered from the cold.

When Fenris pressed a finger inside him alongside his tongue, Anders began to babble incoherently. "Fuck. Fuck... I'm going to… I'm going to come… Shit. Love… More… Give me… more…"

Fenris chuckled low, the sound going straight to Anders' cock as he complied. He twisted his fingers sharply, shoving them deep inside Anders. The mage's head shot up as far as it could go, and Anders howled in pleasure. His whole body felt like it was vibrating, like it was a single, massive pleasure organ that responded to nothing but the feel of Fenris and what he was doing with his fingers.

His body writhed as he moved on the fingers inside him, bumping them against that sweet spot in his ass. Fenris' free hand dove under the fur beneath Anders' head, and the mage felt his ass clench in anticipation. With glazed eyes, he watched Fenris pull the bottle of elfroot extract they kept there. With a flick of his thumb, Fenris popped the cork and it landed soundlessly on the furs. With the smell of elfroot in the air, the howling wind outside, and the furs against his skin, Anders felt primal.

As Fenris moved his fingers in and out, the digits became slicker each time they pushed back in. When they pulled free, Anders sucked in a slow breath in preparation or what was to come. The tip of Fenris' cock pressed against his entrance, and with a sharp movement of his hips, he pushed inside Anders in one thrust. Anders let go of his ass, clawing at the furs and ripping hair free. He would never get tired of this. As long as he lived he would never get tired of this feeling.

Fenris draped himself over Anders' back, and his hands moved over his abdomen, his fingers tracing the scar that marred his skin. "Do you need help?" Fenris whispered in his ear.

"Maker, no," Anders assured him with a choked laugh. "Touch me and it'll be all over. Don't act like you didn't plan it that way."

Nipping at his earlobe, Fenris chuckled in reply. With shallow retreat and a quick snap of his hips, Fenris thrust into Anders.

Anders braced his hands, giving himself more leverage to thrust back franticly. He clenched his ass rhythmically around the cock inside him, feeling the width of it as it speared him open again and again. His eyes slid shut and he let himself feel the inexorable climb towards climax.

His cock bobbed between his thighs, and the fur rubbed along the tip, creating a strange sensation that teased. Each thrust jolted Anders forward, while he chased Fenris' cock with each retreat. They built up a rhythm together, their bodies moving as one.

"Going to… come… Going to…" Anders gasped.

"Do it…" Fenris said between gritted teeth. His fingers pulled and plucked at Anders' nipples under his robes

The coil inside Anders snapped and he came, screaming Fenris' name. Behind him, he could hear Fenris growling as his thrusts became uncoordinated. With a shout, Fenris slammed in to Anders one last time, and his nails raked down Anders' chest as he rode out his orgasm.

The two of them fell to the furs, boneless and abruptly aware of just how cold it really was. Anders scrambled to pull the furs back over them, and he rolled over into the mess he had made while doing so.

"Eww." He wiped at the rapidly congealing semen and made a face.

Moving to press his face into Anders' neck, Fenris smiled against his skin. "You could always get up and clean it off," he offered.

"Are you insane? It's freezing. I am not getting up and getting myself wet." Anders squirmed and entangled his legs with Fenris'.

"Then you'll just have to suffer until morning."

Anders kissed Fenris on top of his head. "I'm glad you came with me."

"This isn't something you should have to do alone." Their combined body heat was warming Fenris once more and he felt the pull of sleep tug at him.

"Thank you," Anders muttered. "I don't know what I would do without you."


	58. Chapter 58

To everyone that has reviewed, put this story on alert, and have been reading and enjoying it, I thank you!

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><p>The fishing village Anders had spent the first twelve years of his life had no name. If it was referred to at all, it was just Fisher. It was close to Kassel, and sometimes was mistakenly attached to that town, but it was not a part of it. When outsiders spoke of going to Fisher, they usually saved the time in explaining where it was and said Kassel instead. Anders' surname was the Anderfels word for Fisher—the same as everyone else who had been born in the village to parents that had never left.<p>

Nothing had changed.

Absolutely nothing.

The village was still set up in a half ring on the shores of Lake Kassel. What shops were there were near the edge of the lake to cater to the fishermen that worked there. The single tavern was closest—if it could be called that—while the huts that housed the small population were on the outer edge.

Even if the village hadn't changed, Anders had. He was no longer the same scared little boy who couldn't understand why his father hated him so much. He was also a warden now-that meant something in the Anderfels. People came out of their huts to see the two men riding into their village. Both he and Fenris wore the tabard of the wardens, and the twin griffons could be seen rearing against a blue background through the part in their fur lined cloaks. A few of the more adventurous village children came running up to them, some of them touching their horses and rushing back to their giggling friends.

Anders remembered that. Touching a warden's mount was almost as good as touching a warden. It was a game they played to see who was brave enough to get close to do it. Anders had never participated. None of the other children had ever wanted to play with him.

As an adult, Anders knew it was trickledown effect of his father's making. He would complain so often about Anders, that the men he complained to would take the tales to their homes where their children could hear them. As a child, he had never understood.

Anders knew the path to the hut he had lived in by rote. It was amazing to him that even though he had spent more than half his life away, he could still recall how to get there. He reined in his horse in front of it and dismounted. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Fenris do the same. They didn't need to tether their horses. They were well trained and would not stray.

Both he and Fenris had their heads covered by wool scarves. Anders reached up and silently pulled his away from his face. He saw his hands were shaking and held them in front of him. "I can't do this," he whispered.

Fenris came up behind him, his boots crunching in the snow. "Say the word and we'll leave. You shouldn't force yourself."

When Anders exhaled in a sigh, his warm breath clouded in the cold in front of him. "No. No, I should do this. I just—"

The decision was taken out of his hands when the door opened. A young man stood in the doorway. He was tall, and had the same blonde hair that all Anders had, but his was cut ruthlessly short. "Can I help you..." His eyes widened when he saw Anders. "By the Maker!"

Anders couldn't help but let out his own oath. It was like looking into a mirror twelve years ago. "I…" Anders started and faltered. This wasn't what he had been expecting. Out of all the scenarios he had dreamed up over the years, and especially the past few weeks, having a brother hadn't been one of them.

* * *

><p>The hut hadn't changed either. It consisted of a large single room where everything from sleeping to eating was done in one area. The fire pit was in the center of the room, and the three men were seated on wooden chairs around it. Anders and Fenris had discarded their cloaks and gloves, and their boots were drying by the fire.<p>

"She died six months ago," Medwin explained.

Even though Anders had known that the likely hood of his mother still being alive was slim, he'd still had hope. A well of grief opened up inside him, and he blinked rapidly. "How?"

"Her heart. One moment she was fine, the next she was clutching her chest and fell. She was gone in an instant." His brother stared into the fire, watching it crackle and spark.

Anders had a brother, a _brother_ for Maker's sake. Was this how Fenris had felt when he'd realized he had a sister? Anders felt elated and frightened at the same time. Small mannerisms caught his attention. Like the way Medwin's eyes would crinkle at corners when he smiled. He was the spitting image of Anders. He…

He was the spitting image of Anders.

"Our mother's husband… Where is he?" Anders had made a conscious decision to never refer to that man again by his name, or by the title of father.

Medwin fidgeted. "He left a few years back. Wardens came by with some questions. Mother had to hide me. It was a huge mess. Don't know where he is now."

"And your father?" Anders urged softly. "Where is he?" He heard a sharp inhalation of breath from Fenris. Anders was translating for him, but Fenris had picked up a enough words here and there in the time they'd spent in the Anderfels, to get the meaning of what Anders had asked, even if not the exact words.

Rubbing his hand over his short hair, Medwin sighed. "Look. You obviously know. So let's not pretend otherwise. Mother made it very plain to me that you were with the circles now and wouldn't be coming back." He gestured to Anders' tabard. "But here you are, and with the wardens. If you're worried I'm going to try and take the throne, you can forget it. I don't want it. So you can just leave and pretend you never saw me. Raimund was an asshole. After you left, mother went back to the capital and they met again. And just like with you, she came running back here to hide what she'd done."

"Her husband just took her back?" From what Anders remembered of the man, that wasn't likely, or if he had he would have made her pay for it.

"He did," Medwin said, echoing Anders' thoughts. "He just made sure that she never forgot what she owed him. What _I_ owed him. The wardens coming were the last straw." He made a motion with his hands. "Poof, he was gone. He left me to take care of mother."

Anders closed his eyes. How could she have done it? His memories of her had been of a kind and sweet woman who had been cowed by her husband. Now he was getting a different and unflattering picture. Had his childhood memories shielded him from seeing how she truly was? A woman who had a taste for adventure and been punished for it several times.

Maybe Anders' urge to run wasn't all his own. Was he any different? If his mother had loved the king half as much as Anders loved Fenris, then he could forgive her recklessness.

"I'm not… I don't want the blighted throne, either." Anders gave Medwin a tentative smile. "If I'd known any of this, I wouldn't have come back."

"Then why did you?" Medwin asked him bluntly. "I can't stay here any longer. People are already starting to notice the resemblance. You had the circle and you're a warden now. The barons can't touch you, but me… Do you have any idea of what they'll do to me? Raimund was a puppet king, and everyone knew it. The real power came from the barons and the First Warden. They'll expect the same thing from me."

Fenris lightly touched Anders' shoulder and the mage turned towards him. "He doesn't know that Frey is dead and Aedan is First Warden now."

Anders' eyebrows drew down in confusion. "What... Oh! Oh, love, you're brilliant."

"There's a new First Warden. I don't think you'll have to worry about them looking for you anymore," Anders assured Medwin. "In fact, I would be willing to bet that if you did want to take the throne, you would find that the wardens would be a strong ally."

When he translated for Fenris, the elf grasped Anders by the shoulder. "That's not what I meant," he hissed. "I was only meaning to tell you that Aedan will not hound him like Frey had. I didn't mean for you to suggest—"

"Quiet, love," Anders whispered out of the corner of his mouth. All the while he smiled at Medwin as if he and Fenris weren't having an argument. "We need him to do this. It will stabilize the country, and Aedan would have an ally in the palace. Medwin gets out of this hovel and doesn't have to hide for the rest of his life. And most importantly, no one will care who I look like. The Anderfels will already have a king."

Fenris settled back in his chair and gave Medwin a smile that looked more like a grimace. "If this goes poorly, you're telling Aedan that it was your idea."

"Oh, no. You gave me the idea, love. It's only fair you take full credit for it."

* * *

><p><em>Four months later<em>

"Ah! The scent of wet dog. Ferelden, how I've missed you!" Anders was standing on the docks in Amaranthine, his arms spread wide as if encompassing the whole city.

"Must you do that in every port and city?" Fenris asked beside him. "You greeted the twins when we returned to Kirkwall—both times. You told Starkhaven that you had missed the smell of gold in the air. What will you say to the Vigil?"

"That the stench of broodmothers cannot be compared," Anders replied. "And I didn't say anything about Weisshaupt."

"That's because the moment Aedan gave us leave to go back to Ferelden, you rushed to our room to pack. I don't think you even looked back once as we rode out."

"Nope," Anders said proudly. "I wanted the last thing for that old bitch to see was my back."

They had stayed with Medwin for three days, all the time they had felt comfortable enough in spending before Aedan sent wardens out to look for them. It had been an emotional three days, in which Medwin and Anders got to know each other with the little bit of time they had.

When Medwin had shown Anders their mother's grave, Anders had cried.

Fenris had left them alone as much as possible.

As much as he had wanted to hover over Anders, he knew that wasn't what the mage needed from him. As long as he was nearby that was enough.

Aedan hadn't been too pleased with Anders when he'd heard how the mage had pledged the wardens to Medwin without consulting him first. The two of them had fought about it for two days, dragging both Fenris and Zevran into it. But in the end, Aedan had seen that Anders had been in the right. Aedan wanted no part in running the Anderfels the way Frey had—or the demon disguised as him. He didn't care who was on the throne, as long as they left the wardens alone.

Not long after they had returned to Weisshaupt, Medwin came. He'd said that he'd thought about what Anders had said, and was willing to do what he needed to do in order to take what was his.

Shortly after that, Anders asked Aedan if they could return to Ferelden. It would only make things harder for Medwin if Anders was there. Even though they were both bastards, Anders was the oldest. He wanted to be well out of the country when Medwin made his move.

Aedan had accused him of running from the mess he'd made.

Anders hadn't denied it.

They had stayed long enough to make sure that Aedan was firmly established in Weisshaupt before departing. There had been a few grumblings among the ranks that Aedan was a foreigner, but they couldn't get around two basic facts. Aedan had helped free Weisshaupt, and he had stopped a Blight. If there was anyone else more qualified, Anders didn't know of him.

When his brother came into his power, Anders would broach the subject of the circles directly to him. It occurred to him that he had friends in high places; Viscount of Kirkwall, Prince of Starkhaven, First Warden, and King of the Anderfels. It gave him hope that what he and Wynne were trying to accomplish would come to pass.

He and Fenris visited both Hawke and Sebastian on the journey south. In the time they had been gone in the Anderfels, the Free Marches had their own upheavals.

It had come to light that Ser Cullen and Viscount Hawke had been secretly married for over a year. The Grand Cleric had performed the ceremony herself. Hawke didn't know how word had leaked out, but once it had, it had spread like mage fire.

Sebastian Vael had also married, and his wedding had been just as scandalous. For someone who had been a brother in the Chantry, he had done the one thing Anders hadn't been expecting. He married Lizette, and she had left the Seekers.

She was a nobody from Orlais who had broken the vows she had made to the Maker. The general population of Starkhaven might not have known that she had been a Seeker, but everyone was aware that she had been a sister in the Chantry. But money talked all the world over, and Starkhaven had plenty of it. No one dared offend Sebastian or Lizette, so the rumblings were quiet, and eventually settled down. There were those that remembered Sebastian in his youth, and weren't a bit surprised that his wedding would be so salacious.

It wasn't until Anders and Fenris rode back into Vigil's Keep that they got the biggest surprise of them all.

* * *

><p>"You made her a warden?" Anders was staring at Nathaniel Howe as if he had grown a set of horns and was droning on and on about the demands of the Qun. The two men and Fenris were in Aedan's office.<p>

They had returned to the keep a few hours before hand. They had settled back in their rooms, and Anders had immediately scooped up Pounce, crooning to the cat in a sickly sweet voice. It wasn't until they had descended for food after the dinner bell had rang, that Anders and Fenris had seen her.

Merrill was seated at a long table with Velanna, Sigrun and Oghren. When she had seen them approach, she had given them a wide smile and waved her arms. "Anders! Fenris! I'm so glad to see you. I'm a warden now, isn't that great?"

Anders had taken one look at her and then turned right around, marching straight up to Aedan's office.

"I did," Nate said mildly. "Is there a problem Anders?"

"Yes, there's a problem. We sent her to you so she could wait for Wynne in safety, not to make her a warden."

Fenris crossed his arms and kept his mouth shut. Anders was upset and anything that Fenris would have to say on the subject of Merrill would only anger him further. Merrill had always made him uncomfortable. She was a blood mage and practiced her craft more openly than Fenris had ever seen outside of Tevinter. He had felt it was a mistake to break her out of the Gallows, and he felt it was a mistake to take her out from under Wynne's watchful eye. The wardens took blood mages, Fenris knew that, but he had yet to be confronted with it outside of what had happened to Weisshaupt—and that hadn't been known at the time.

Nate spread his hands and shrugged. "When Wynne came, she didn't want to go. You weren't here, Anders. You don't know what's been going on."

"What's happened?" Fenris asked.

"What hasn't happened?" Nate sat down in Aedan's chair. Propping his elbows on the desk, he folded his hands. "I'd forgotten what Merrill was like. I had my hands full running the keep and arldom so I just let her… go off on her own. She would spend all day exploring the keep. From the tallest towers, to—"

"Oh no," Anders whispered in dismay.

"—the deepest dungeon. Next thing I know, the Architect is gone, and Merrill is telling me she let him out. I haven't been able to find a trace of him since then."

"My sister," Fenris asked. "Did my sister flee with him?"

Nate nodded and Fenris felt his heart sink. "I'm sorry, but she did."

Growling, Fenris turned and began to pace the room. "You were supposed to watch over her, Howe. How could you have let this happen?" He cursed at Nate in Arcanum, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl.

"Do you think I wanted the Architect to escape? She was sent here to wait for Wynne. She wasn't my prisoner. How was I supposed to know that she needed to be watched so closely?" Nate thumbed at the strip of hair below his bottom lip. "As soon as she came to me I threw her in the dungeon while we went and searched for the Architect."

"So how does she go from being a prisoner to being a warden?" Fenris asked. "Reliving your glory days?" that wasn't fair of Fenris, but he didn't care. Varania had vanished into the Deep Roads, the one place where the Architect could disappear and never be heard from again. The two of them had been making small strides in their relationship before he had left for Weisshaupt. It hadn't been much, but it had given Fenris hope for the future.

Now that was gone.

"Throwing insults isn't going to change anything," Nate chided. He definitely wasn't Aedan. Aedan would've obliged Fenris with a screaming match. Whereas Nate let the insults roll off of him. "She asked to be made a warden, and pledged herself to right the mistake she'd made. All of us have something in which we want to atone for. She's no different."

Fenris' anger made him incautious. "She is different. She's a blood mage. Did you read the missives Aedan sent you at all? A single blood mage caused chaos in Starkhaven and almost killed Anders. Another blood mage in Weisshaupt was feeding demons he found there. She belongs in the circle where the templars can make sure she doesn't harm anyone."

"Excuse me?" Anders tilted his head to the side, as if he hadn't heard Fenris correctly. "You did not just compare Merrill to the magisters, did you? That's different and you know it."

"I know no such thing," Fenris snapped. "Why are you always so stubborn in your defense of her?"

Nate cleared his throat loudly, bringing their attention back to him. "I'm glad to see your confidence in my ability to be Warden-Commander is high," he said dryly. In one of the letters Aedan had sent with Anders and Fenris to give to Nate, he had been officially declared Warden-Commander. Fenris had to stop thinking of this room as Aedan's and started thinking of it as Nate's now.

"As it is," Nate continued on. "She is being watched very carefully. Velanna, Sigrun or Christopher is with her at all times, and—"

"What?" Anders exclaimed. "I thought he was rotting in the dungeon."

Nate gave them a small smile. "He was. He tried to stop her from freeing the Architect, and when she was thrown into a cell next to his, they became… close," he said delicately. "When she survived the Joining, I let Christopher out. His punishment is to be responsible for her. If she crosses the line at any time, he and Merrill will share the same fate."

"If they're…" Fenris couldn't finish the sentence. Thinking of Merrill and Christopher together made him feel vaguely ill. "That doesn't seem to be much of a punishment," he pointed out.

Laughing, Nate leaned back in his chair. "They say they love each other. Their actions with dictate the other's fate. It's no different than being made to work in the infirmary. They get to be together, but the fact that they are being punished is never forgotten."

All right, Fenris could say nothing to that. But it did bring up a topic that needed to be discussed. "We never found Christopher's letter. Someone wanted me there, but it wasn't the demons."

Nate riffled through the pile of parchment on his desk. He found what he was looking for and held it up. "I know. Aedan thinks that it was the blood mage. You don't sound so sure."

"It would have been close," Fenris elaborated. "It takes months for a letter to reach Amaranthine to Weisshaupt. In the time it would have taken for Christopher to write his letter, and have it reach Weisshaupt, the blood mage might have already been dead." He just couldn't let himself relax. The thought that there were magisters out there looking for him, made him be constantly on his guard. It was almost as if he had never left Kirkwall, and was still looking over his shoulder, waiting for Tevinter slavers to find him.

"Aedan said he's still looking into it." Nate set the letter neatly on the pile next him. "If anything changes I'll let you know."

"Thank you." Some of the tension leaked out of Fenris' shoulders. Aedan would go out of his way to make sure that word of where Fenris was didn't reach Minrathous. He could trust that.

"Well, Nate," Anders said with a sly grin on his face. "I heard that Isabela has a new friend. Care to tell me what happened there?"

Nate's expression turned innocent. "Is that a royal command?"

Anders tapped a thoughtful finger against his lips. "Wait, do royal bastards from the Anderfels outrank arls? Because if they do, then yes, that's a command."

"Now that you mention it, I think they do." Nate sat up straight in his chair as if he had just realized something. "But not Warden-Commanders. So sorry, your Highness."

Anders grimaced. "Ugh. Don't say that."

"Don't," Fenris agreed, but his voice lacked any of Anders' jovial tone. "That does not go beyond this room."

"I know that. Fenris." Nate let out a slow sigh. "You don't have to play the watchdog with me. Now if the two of you don't mind, I still have more of this blighted paperwork to get through. We can speak more in the morning."

They both left, but not before Anders gave Nate a cheeky salute, snapping to attention. "Yes, ser!"

* * *

><p>Now <em>this<em> was how it should be.

Anders was curled up in bed with a naked Fenris next to him, and a purring Pounce on his chest. Fenris had drifted off to sleep almost as soon as they had returned from the dining hall. As tired as Anders was, he wasn't ready to sleep yet. The two of them had a made a life for themselves in Vigil's Keep, and Anders had been so close to losing that too many times in the past few months. He wanted this moment to last, burned into his memory and every fiber of his being. It was the feeling of contentment, of knowing that he had some place where he belonged, where he was needed and loved.

It showed him that while he had thought himself not alone while he and Justice had been merged, that it had been just an illusion. He had friends who cared about him and someone that loved him. Not just him, but everything about him. Fenris knew Anders inside and out, and he was still around, still fighting to stay by Anders' side.

There were all kinds of love in the world, and Fenris' version had been just what Anders had been missing in his life.

Yawning, Anders turned his head and pressed a kiss to Fenris' cheek. "Love you," he whispered.

Fenris stirred, and one of his eyes cracked open. He smiled, one of those full smiles that hid nothing that Anders loved so much. It took away the harsh lines in his face and made him appear younger and more innocent.

"Love you too."

* * *

><p>AN: I'm going to take a few days off before starting part three. Hope you enjoyed part two and that it answered old questions and created new ones. ^_^


	59. What Was Lost Chapter 1

Thank you to everyone who has encouraged me with your reviews and alerts.

* * *

><p>Almost three years to the day after returning from Weisshaupt, Fenris' world fell apart.<p>

He had been gone a month in the Deep Roads, and had just this moment returned. He still wore his sword strapped to his back and the backpack he kept all of his provisions in were in his hands, slipped off his shoulders when he had exited the basement and had seen the sun for the first time in weeks. His armor were dented and rent in places, and dried blood was splattered on his face and hair. With little to no light in the Deep Roads, it was impossible to ever get truly clean.

Clean was what he had wanted. He was tired and bone weary. He and Denerou had lost the mage that had come with them, a young warden named Heather. Anders wasn't going to take the news well. He took it personally when a mage died, as if he hadn't prepared them enough and had failed them somehow.

Fenris wanted nothing more than a chance to bathe, a hot meal and Anders, in no particular order. That wasn't true. He wanted Anders first. He hated to be away from him for so long. The drive to get back to the mage was what kept him safe in the Deep roads. It made him fight harder and smarter when he was down there.

With the Architect gone, the Deep Roads under Amaranthine were filling once again with darkspawn. Their numbers had increased steadily over the years, but they rarely ventured to the surface. They were more likely than not to be found in the deepest areas underground.

As Warden-Commander, Howe was making it his mission to map out as much of the Deep Roads that wove like a spider's web under Ferelden. They were constantly being sent down to chronicle darkspawn activities. Howe had a theory that if they could keep records of what the darkspawn were doing and where they could be found, they might be able to predict if they were coming close to finding a new Archdemon.

It was an ambitious plan, but Howe was nothing if not determined. Aedan had taken an interest in it, and had asked the other warden outposts—those that could spare the men—to do the same.

There was also the continual search for the Architect.

No sign had been seen of him since the day Merrill had released him. Wardens all over Thedas had been instructed to keep an eye out for him, but not to approach if he should be found. He was becoming a proverbial unicorn, always spotted, but no evidence of him being there ever being found.

Fenris slowed to a stop when he saw Howe and several wardens standing in the courtyard. Nate had a solemn look on his face, and he clutched a wrapped package in his hand. "Fenris…" His voice was grim and Fenris felt his heart speed up as dread descended on him.

"I don't want to hear it." Fenris took a step forward and the wardens near Nate closed ranks around him. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing. "Howe," he began.

"I'm sorry, Fenris, but you have to listen to me." Nate blew out a breath and tossed the package at Fenris. The elf caught it deftly in mid-air. Some of the parchment wrapping tore under the steel claws covering his fingers.

Setting his pack on the ground, Fenris ripped the parchment the rest of the way as his eyes locked with Nate's. "I have no time for your games, Howe. I'm tired and filthy. Spit it out."

Instead of answering, Nate glanced behind Fenris to Denerou. "Take his sword."

The heavy weight of his greatsword was lifted from his back quicker than Fenris could process what Nate had said. He whirled around and almost dropped the package. "What are you playing at, Howe? What's going on?"

Denerou gave Fenris an apologetic look as he walked over to Nate. Taking the sword from his hands, Nate nodded at Denerou. "Thanks." Setting the tip of the sword into the ground, Nate folded his hands on the pommel.

"I'm sorry, Fenris, but it's for your own safety." Nate flicked a finger towards the package. "We received that a week ago. At first, we didn't understand what it meant, but it soon became apparent."

Tearing the rest of the parchment away, Fenris found a folded piece of paper. He lifted it from its wrapping, letting the parchment fall to the ground to be snatched away by the breeze. The paper was finely made, a crisp white that was rarely seen outside of those that could afford it. It was blank, and Fenris gave Nate a questioning look.

"Turn it over and open it."

When he did, Fenris forgot how to breathe. Stamped in blood red wax was the official seal of the Imperium. It had been cracked open, but Fenris would know it anywhere. A sun with dragons twining around it stared up at him. With shaking fingers, Fenris opened the letter.

The looping and elegant script of Arcanum was inked in large letters. Where Fenris had admired the quality of the paper, he now knew only revulsion. It wasn't unheard of for human skin to be used by the magisters in the place of parchment.

Something had been folded into the letter, and it dropped to the ground, forgotten as Fenris' eyes scanned the contents. The trembling in his hands traveled up his arms the more he read, until his whole body was shaking with fear and horror.

_We have him. Come to Minrathous if you want him back, little wolf._

With wide eyes filled with dawning terror, Fenris glanced down to the ground. Next to his boot lay a hank of blond hair, the strands gathered together with a hair tie that was the exact match for the one that Fenris wore on his wrist.

The scream that burst forth from Fenris' mouth as he dropped to his knees, was like nothing the wardens had heard before. It was full of anguish that was wrenched from the soul. He clutched what had once been Anders' ponytail in his fist, and his eyes darted up towards Nate.

"You…" Fenris' voice was full of deadly intent. Later, much later, Fenris would understand why Nate had to tell him the way he did. There were no words, no easy way to tell someone that your lover had been snatched away.

But later was not now.

With a howl of fury, Fenris' brands flared to life. His green eyes became enveloped by the bright blue light of the lyrium under his skin. They tracked Nate like a predator with prey as he took a step back and held his hands up. "I'm sorry, Fenris. I'm so sorry. We'll get him back, I promise you. We—"

Another scream of rage escaped his lips and he lunged for Nate, springing from his crouched position. As he collided with the man and knocked them both to the ground, his hand sank into Nate's chest.

There but not there, in the Fade, but also in the waking world. Fenris' fingers slipped through armor and clothing, sliding through the cracks that no human eye could see. They moved through flesh and bone, until his whole hand was deep inside Howe, up to his wrist. Nate's mouth gaped as his mind and body tried to process-then reject-what was happening.

Fenris' lips curled in a parody of a smile. "I trusted you to watch over him. You gave me your word, Howe. You told me that while I was gone he would be safe. I should have known better. You lost my sister as well, did you not?" When Nate didn't answer quickly enough, Fenris shouted in his face. "Did you not!" Boots thundered on the ground as wardens came pouring out of the keep. Fenris was oblivious to it all, or he didn't care.

"So sorry…" Nate gasped. "Betrayed from the… inside. Blood mage… Have wardens… looking."

The laughter that burst forth from Fenris' lips was bitter. "Looking? You know where he is, where he's going. You will never find him." And they wouldn't either. Fenris knew it as sure as he knew that they must have been planning this for a long time. It had been too neatly done.

For three years Fenris had waited for the magisters to come for him, but nothing happened. The urge to constantly look over his shoulder had returned, and he had become paranoid. But when no magisters came, Fenris had slowly let his guard down. It had been a stupid mistake, and now Anders was paying the price.

Fenris would fight tooth and nail to prevent himself from being taken back to Minrathous. The magisters had to have known that, so they turned to the only thing that would ever drive Fenris to return—Anders. Once again Fenris had underestimated them. Their ambition and scheming would never stop. There were no limit on the amount of lives they would to destroy to get what they wanted.

With an abrupt yank of his arm, Fenris pulled his hand free. He got to his feet and stared down at Nate as he lay gasping in the dirt. He bent down and picked up his sword, sheathing it on his back. Without another word, Fenris turned and walked to his pack, scooping it up without breaking stride.

"Wait! Fenris!" Nate called after him. "You can't mean to go, not alone. I'll send wardens with you."

Fenris paused and shoved Anders' hair in his gauntlet. Sorrow welled up inside him as he felt the familiar glide of the silky strands against his skin. Once, long ago, he had told Anders that he was selfish for wanting to keep the mage close to him. It was because of that same selfishness that Anders had been targeted in the first place. If Fenris had done the right thing and left Anders, then the magisters would never had seen him as someone to be used.

But would it have been worth it? Would it have been worth the return to loneliness?

No. He wouldn't think like that. He wouldn't taint what he and Anders had together by doubting the time they had spent, and the life they had built. One way or another he would get Anders back, and when he did, he would make sure that nothing like this ever happened again.

Decision made, he looked over his shoulder at Nate. "No. I'll go alone. Others will only hinder me." When Nate opened his mouth to object, Fenris cut him off. "I will send you missives as I go, but nothing more. You don't know Minrathous, I do. And Nate… I'm sorry." Without giving Nate time to reply, Fenris walked out of Vigil's Keep.

* * *

><p>Fenris stopped a mile from the Vigil and opened his pack to take stock of what he had. He had learned long ago not to pick up every little thing he found on the darkspawn. Still, he had a good amount of gold with him. The thought of it made the sorrow return.<p>

_One year ago._

"Why do you think darkspawn have money on them?" Anders asked. He and Fenris lay naked in their bed, their legs tangled together.

Fenris was kissing his way down Anders' chest and he paused to look up, quirking an eyebrow at the mage. "Are you seriously asking me this now?"

Anders grinned that goofy smile he always had when he was about to say something he thought was especially amusing. "Well, yeah. Don't you ever think about it? I mean, what are they going to do with it? Maybe they think that they can go to Orzammar and spend it." Anders laughed. "Can you imagine it? Darkspawn in the market buying those little stone figurines that the dwarven children like to play with. Maybe one of them will become an avid collector, and will build a display case for them all, show them off to their darkspawn friends."

Despite himself, Anders startled a laugh out of Fenris. "You're insane. Why am I with you?"

Frowning down at him, Anders' face took on a look of mock offense. "I thought that was obvious, love. I'm handsome, witty, have a great body and I'm a demon in the sack. What more could you want?"

Fenris caressed down Anders' chest and stomach, his fingers tripping over the scar tissue that marred his skin. "Such a lucky elf I am," he cooed. It sounded wrong coming from Fenris, and now it was Anders' turn to laugh.

Pressing a kiss to Anders' navel, Fenris smiled against his skin. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of elfroot and Anders. The smell of elfroot that the mage worked with to make his potions clung to Anders. It was in his robes and on his skin, overlaying the musky smell that was Anders' own. Fenris could not see or smell elfroot without thinking of his lover. It reminded him of all the good things in his life, and how far the both of them had come.

_One mile from the Vigil, present day._

Ruthlessly, Fenris forced the anguish away. He would get Anders back, he had to believe that. Yanking the ties on his pack, he settled it on his back, shifting it so that it didn't hinder his sword if he needed it.

A week Nate had said. They'd had him for a week. Which mean that Anders was already on a ship, bound for one of a few places. They would have left from Amaranthine, but after that… Fenris had to choose, and he had to do it quickly. He could try and chase after them, or he could try and get ahead of them and find his lover in Minrathous. Either way would be costly if he chose wrong. He wasn't sure which magister had Anders, nor did he know where they would have gone once they left Ferelden. Landing in Kirkwall was obvious, but they could have just as easily taken a longer route to Antiva, bypassing the land for the sea.

Fenris quickened his strides and his boots pounded on the road, the urgency in his mind translating to his feet. He was so deep in his thoughts, that he didn't see her until he was almost on top of her.

"My… In a hurry are we?"

Skidding to a halt, Fenris sucked in his breath between his teeth. "You…"

Flemeth laughed. "Is that anyway to greet a friend?"

She was exactly as Fenris remembered her on that mountaintop so long ago. She looked ancient and young at the same time. Her head was held high and a smile was on her lips. It was the smile that unnerved Fenris most of all. It was full of cunning and secrets, things that Fenris wanted nothing to do with.

"Get out of my way, witch," he spat. "You're no friend of mine."

The smile didn't even slip at his tone. She seemed amused by him, as if Fenris was a small child that had said something unintentionally funny. "That's where you're wrong, Leto. You and I are about to become great friends indeed."

Fenris reached behind him and grasped the hilt of his sword. "How do you know that name?"

"Oh, I know all about you, more than you know yourself. Just as I knew all about young Cousland when I rescued him from Ostagar, and just as I knew all about the little Hawke when I saved her family as they fled the Blight. I know many things, Leto. I know that you are headed towards disaster. You will never see your mage again. As we speak, he slips further from your loving grasp." For a moment, a mere heartbeat's time, a predatory light entered her eyes. "But I can help you."

"No." Fenris would not bargain with a witch. No good would come of it. "You speak only lies. Now get out of my way."

"If you do not accept my help and advice, all will be lost. Not just your Anders, but everything in Thedas. You are about to walk into Minrathous and give the magisters exactly what they want. If you think you can take him back on your own, then you are sorely mistaken."

"State what you wish from me, and go," Fenris demanded. He didn't release his hold on his sword, but he did not draw it either. "Your kind do not give advice and help without a price. What is it you want, that you would delay me?"

"What I want?" Flemeth tilted her head to the side. "I want nothing more from you than two things. If you agree, I will take you to Kirkwall. What would have taken you weeks will take you a matter of hours."

"I want no part of whatever magic you think to conjure to accomplish such a feat."

"My magic will not touch you," Flemeth assured him. "Did Hawke not tell you of her flight to Amaranthine? You will travel the same way."

That gave Fenris pause. Hawke had told him how she, Carver, their mother and Aveline had flown on a dragon and escaped the darkspawn horde. If Fenris had not seen Flemeth turn into a dragon himself, he would not have believed her.

What was Anders worth? What was getting him back worth to him?

Everything. Anders was worth anything and everything.

"Your terms?" A part of Fenris was screaming at him, telling him not to do this. She was the Witch of the Wilds. Even in Tevinter they had stories of her, used to scare children into good behavior. She wasn't a magister whose motives were clear. She was old magic and old ways long forgotten.

A look of triumph passed over her face, and she didn't bother to hide it. "I will take you to Kirkwall, but no further. From there you must leave and travel to Weisshaupt. There you will ask Aedan Cousland one question. Do not allow him to tell you anything but the truth. He has hid from it for far too long, and it is time he faced what he has done."

Fenris was incredulous. "You tell me to ask Aedan for truths, but you speak in riddles. If you already know the answer, then you must tell me."

"Because it can only come from his lips," she said far too patiently. "His aid is essential."

"Then what must I ask?" Fenris growled between clenched teeth. He hated riddles. He could never understand why people couldn't just say what they meant and be done with it.

"You only need to ask the question that every warden has asked himself. How did Aedan Cousland survive killing the Archdemon?"

That took Fenris aback. He had wondered that himself at times. He knew how an Archdemon had to be killed by a warden, Aedan had made no secret of that. How he had lived where all others had died… It couldn't be as simple as asking a question. Aedan didn't speak on his battle with the Archdemon, and Fenris had always respected that. What was Aedan hiding? Damn Flemeth. She was going to force Fenris to pry when he should not.

Fenris of years passed would have lied to Flemeth and told her he would ask and never do it. But he wasn't that Fenris anymore, his word meant something to him, it had weight and merit. If he agreed to her tasks then he would see them done.

He took a deep breath. "And the second task?"

Flemeth laughed. "You will not thank me for it when you hear it, but if it is not done, you will fail."

She smiled when she told him.

* * *

><p>Nate sat with his face buried in his hands in the dining hall. How was he going to fix this? He had tried to be what the Vigil needed, and under his watch the Architect had escaped and Anders had been snatched right from his bed.<p>

No wonder Aedan had always been so antagonistic. Nate felt like screaming in frustration. He was a Grey warden and a Howe, he shouldn't be making mistakes like this. But he had, and now he had to make it right.

"Don't worry, Nate, I'm sure Anders and Fenris will be fine." Merrill sat next to him and patted him on the shoulder. "You sent out wardens after Fenris and you still have people looking for Anders. What more can you do?"

"Leave him alone, Merrill," Velanna said. She sat across from Merrill. "If he wants to flog himself into inaction then let him."

Nate's head shot up and he glared at her. "I am not—"

"She's right, boy." Oghren lifted his tankard and took a deep drink. He slammed it down on the table, rattling the plates. "Not your fault. Blood mages are bad business. Er…" He glanced at Merrill.

"What he means," Christopher interjected, "is that _some_ blood mages can be slippery. They thrive on subterfuge." Merrill beamed at Christopher and he smiled back.

Nate opened his mouth to reply when the doors to the dining hall burst open and the last person Nate had been expecting to see strode in.

Walking so briskly it was almost a run, Fenris headed right to their table. Chairs screeched on the floor as the wardens that sat there stood up as one.

"Fenris?" Nate started. "I—"

But Fenris ignored Nate completely. He stepped around him and grabbed Merrill by the arm. "You're coming with me."

* * *

><p>AN: During part three there will be flashbacks to things that have happened over the last three years.


	60. Chapter 60

Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews and encouragement. Also, the Maker's hacky-sack is now my new name for Fenris.

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><p>Anders' stomach heaved and he vomited in the bucket he had been oh-so-helpfully given. The rocking of the ship wasn't helping, and he gripped the bucket in tight hands to prevent its contents from spilling.<p>

The magebane the magisters were pouring into his system was starting to poison him. From that first cup of ale he had been given outside of the Vigil, to every bit of food he had consumed on the ship since then. He had tried to stop eating, and they had taken matters in their own hands, holding him down and slicing his arms with daggers laced with magebane.

He had decided to eat then. If they were going to do it anyway, it was best he wasn't weakened from lack of food as well.

He had trusted Sarah. Sweet Sarah from Ferelden. Young Sarah with her non-descript features and mousy brown hair. She had reminded him a little bit of himself, always running from the circle and the templars. She'd admitted that she'd had a hard time in the circle, she was too quiet and too trusting and the templars had taken advantage of that. She'd cried then in his arms.

What a bunch of shit.

Well, he knew better now. The magisters had been smart with the mage they'd sent to infiltrate the wardens. Now that he thought back, he could see there had always been signs. She couldn't heal worth a damn, but she had been able to conjure a mean fireball. She'd always been nearby as well, not intrusive the way Christopher had once been, but just… there, worming her way into his heart.

He had seen her like a little sister he'd never had.

They talked of the circles and Tevinter often. Maker, how much more stupid could he have been? He'd been so certain that he'd found another likeminded mage, that he hadn't been able to see passed her bright smiles.

She'd been with the wardens for six months before she had suggested the walk outside the keep, just to clear his head. Fenris was supposed to be back any day now, and Anders was getting anxious. She'd said that she'd sensed that Anders needed someone to talk to, and she was there with a willingness to listen.

How grateful he'd been. How _fucking_ grateful.

He never tasted the sleeping potion, or the magebane in the ale she'd brought with them for a small lunch on a grassy hill. He had poured out his heart to her, his fears for Fenris, and his hope of a safe return. She was supposed to have been his friend.

Anders slipped to the floor and rested his hot forehead on the cool wood. His nausea had started yesterday, and he knew it was only going to get worse. They didn't care how ill he became from the magebane, only that he was alive enough to be used as bait.

His hair fell over his face and he brushed it back irritably. The front half came down to just below his ears, while in the back… He gingerly touched the back of his head and felt the starkly uneven strands. Vanity reared its ugly head. He knew he should be grateful they hadn't taken a finger or an ear, but still…

His stomach muscles cramped as he sat back up. They were sore from the amount of vomiting he'd done in the past two days. He placed his hand on the bed, and pulled himself up on unsteady feet. The cabin he was locked in didn't lack for comforts. A bed, table and two chairs were bolted to the floor. He even had a dresser with clean clothes just for him. Above the dresser was an oval frame, the mirror that had once been housed inside it missing. They had thought of everything. They couldn't have him smashing it and using the shards on himself on others.

How long had it been since he had woken up in this room and been told what had happened? The magebane made his thoughts sluggish, and keeping track of the days and nights through the small round window set in one wall was becoming difficult. He thought it had been at least a week, but any more than that he wasn't sure.

Anders sat down on the edge of the bed and raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. Fenris would come for him. He knew it and he feared it. They hadn't made it a secret of why he had been taken and where they were heading. He didn't want Fenris to come, but he knew that nothing was going to stop the elf. Better that Anders languished in Minrathous and died than Fenris ever stepping a foot in Tevinter.

He slammed a fist on the mattress. He had to be patient. There was nothing he could do on the ship. He had to bide his time and wait until they reached land. His time in the circle had taught Anders very well. He knew how to watch and wait. One didn't get the reputation he'd had for his daring escape attempts by being stupid. He needed to tap into those long dormant skills once more. Every jail had an exit. Anders just needed to look for it.

* * *

><p>Fenris was never gladder to see Kirkwall. Riding on the back of a dragon over the ocean was not something that Fenris would have contemplated doing—<em>ever<em>. He had been admittedly terrified the whole way. He had clung tightly on the back of Flemeth and kept his eyes squeezed shut. No one was ever meant to fly like this, and for good reason. The thought that Flemeth would take a sharp turn and dump him into the sea didn't leave him the entire time. The tales of wardens flying through the air on griffons now seemed more insane than glorious.

His companions didn't share his sentiments.

Merrill and Christopher had whooped and hollered in joy and amazement, their cries loud enough to be heard over the roaring of the wind in his ears. Flemeth had perversely goaded them on, occasionally opening her mouth and letting out a jet of flame.

When Flemeth had told him that her second condition for her help was to bring Merrill along with him, Fenris had balked. He had spent as little time as possible around Merrill for the past three years. He didn't know how to talk to her, and every time he did, he was reminded in some small way what she was and what she could do—willingly. His distrust of mages had lessened, but blood mages… There was no helping them. All of Thedas reviled them, and for good reason. Demons did not care what your good intentions were, they didn't care about what a good person you might be, they took and twisted until your wants and desires were all that mattered in this world and the next. There had never been a blood mage that had not succumbed to temptation, Merrill was no exception.

He could see why Hawke and Cullen had fought about Merrill when she had been in Kirkwall. Fenris and Anders did the same thing. Why the two mages continued to defend the indefensible, he would never know.

There could be no reason that was acceptable to continence what Flemeth was asking him. That the witch wanted Merrill by his side was more than enough evidence for Fenris to turn the woman down and walk away.

That was until she had shouted after him that he must not love Anders enough to do what was required to save him.

He had turned back, unsheathing his sword as he did so, his eyes full of deadly intent. How dare she question his devotion to Anders? This witch, this creature who would never know what it was like to care for another person the way Fenris did. How dare she waste his time with her promises, threats and riddles?

With a casual flick of her fingers, she had frozen him in place. "Do you think you can harm me? I have killed men for less. I will tell you now that you are walking a path that will lead to your destruction. The magisters play with old magic they cannot hope to understand. The last time this was done, the Blight was released upon the land. What do you think will happen if they make a second attempt?" It was a rhetorical question because Fenris could not answer.

"The Golden City is not what they or the Chantry thinks it is-it never was. The god Dumat lied to them, and now all of Thedas and the Fade are paying the price. This is much larger than your infinitesimal need to rescue your lover. You think I have ulterior motives, and you would be wise to think so. But my motives are my own, and are not the grand schemes of the magisters. I only seek to stop something that would destroy all that I've worked for. If you think to march into Minrathous alone, you will perish—and so will your lover."

There had been lies and truth mixed in her words, things that went unsaid, or only partially spoken of. But what choice did he have?

None if he wished to save Anders and return alive.

"Do you think we can visit Hawke?" Merrill asked. Christopher was wide eyed as they passed through the gates of Kirkwall. He had never left Ferelden, and had only heard stories of the city. Nate wouldn't let Merrill go unless Christopher went with them.

He had even made Fenris stay in the keep long enough to get himself cleaned up and better provisioned than he already was. He wore a new set of armor, and the blood and grime from the Deep Roads had been washed from his skin and hair. Nate had followed Fenris around the keep, filling him in what had happened. A mage that they had trusted had turned out to be a magister—or so they surmised. Anders had been seen walking out of the Vigil with her, and had never returned. The package had been found on their bed the next morning.

"We will have to." Fenris weaved his way through the streets of Kirkwall, headed towards the Viscount's Keep. Hawke would be able to provide them with swift horses and information.

He could hear Merrill murmuring excitedly to Christopher. It would be a long journey to Weisshaupt and Minrathous, but Flemeth had bought Fenris time that he sorely needed. Every moment Anders spent in the company of the magisters the chance that he would be irrevocably harmed went up. Anders was powerful, but the magisters would never respect that his power took the form of healing magic. Why heal when one could use that might for other purposes?

_Two years ago._

"I wish I had made it to Minrathous one of the times I escaped the circle," Anders said. He and Fenris were walking back from Amaranthine. The day was warm, but a cool and refreshing breeze blew through the trees. Anders' newest tie was in his hair. He had saved up for months to be able to afford it. Especially commissioned, the braided leather cord had a silver wolf's head attaching the two ends together. Green glass that looked like expensive gems, were set as eyes that flashed when the sun hit them. Fenris had a matching one on his wrist. This one would not be falling apart anytime soon.

Fenris stopped and grabbed Anders by the arm. "No, you don't. I know what mages in the circle think of Tevinter, but it's not what they say-for you especially."

"Why me especially?"

"You heal," Fenris stated flatly. "They would have eaten you alive and made you a slave. You would have been put to work cleaning up the messes they make of their slaves and each other." He touched Anders' cheek and ran his thumb over the blonde stubble. "You have such a good heart. They would have taken that from you."

Anders sighed. "All right… Ruin my little fantasy where I show up in Minrathous, meet you and we fall wildly in love, and I—" He was cut off as Fenris leaned forward and kissed him. Anders wrapped his arms around the elf and closed his eyes, their mouths moving over each other.

It was some time before they broke apart panting. "I thank you for the thought," Fenris whispered against Anders' lips. "But you could not have stopped what happened to me. I asked for this, and if the younger me is anything like who I am now, there is nothing you could have said to persuade me away from my course of action."

"Oh? I don't know about that." Anders grinned and his eyes became heated. "I'm sure I would've thought of something. I can be very persuasive."

Fenris chuckled and his head dropped back as Anders' teeth found a sensitive spot on his throat. "You can be at that."

_Kirkwall, present day._

Fenris made a distressed noise in the back of his throat. He couldn't allow himself to be mired in memories and regrets. Getting to Anders was what mattered. Before he knew it, they were standing in front of the giant doors of the Viscount's Keep.

* * *

><p>"I'm so sorry, Fenris." Hawke made a move to reach out for the elf, but thought better of it and dropped her arm. Fenris had started pacing the sitting room as he had explained what was going on and hadn't stopped since.<p>

"Tell me what you need and I will see it done." Sebastian Vael's eyes followed the elf around the room. He and Lizette had been visiting along with Carver when the guards had burst in announcing that there were Grey Wardens requesting an audience. When Hawke heard which Grey Wardens, she had them sent directly in.

Fenris wasn't telling the whole story, Hawke could feel it. The magisters were going through a lot of trouble to get Fenris back. Stealing Anders was a desperate move.

"I need horses," Fenris answered. "I need information about the current condition of Tevinter, if you have it. Time is of the essence."

"Then you shall have my horse," Sebastian offered. "He's strong and swift. As for information…" He glanced down to his wife.

"Tevinter has gone silent." Lizette smoothed down the skirt of her rich green gown. "No one is sure why. They have stopped their search for," here she gave Fenris a speculative look, "the Key."

That got Fenris to stop his movement. He froze, indecision written on his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "They stopped because they found it."

And then he began the most amazing story.

* * *

><p>By the time he was done Fenris felt drained. He sat alone on a delicate couch, his face buried in his hands. They had needed to know. They had needed to know who and what they were about to help and why. That they offered their help so freely had been a deciding factor in his decision to tell them. It was a risk, especially with Lizette in the room, but if his rescue of Anders went wrong, then they had to be warned.<p>

"Why didn't you tell us sooner, Fenris?" Hawke finally said. She was the first to speak and break the oppressive and shocked silence.

It was Merrill of all people who answered. "He couldn't. First Warden Cousland didn't want word to spread."

That wasn't precisely true, and that Merrill would lie for him surprised Fenris. It shouldn't have, though. Merrill was a sweet woman, who loved her friends and life. If it wasn't for the blood magic, Fenris might have become friends with her. But as it was, he still couldn't get passed it. It colored his every interaction with her. He was never rude to her, but he never got to know her beyond what was necessary.

Now it was necessary.

Flemeth wanted her with him for a reason, and he needed to figure out it—soon.

"The Chantry should have been made aware of this," Cullen said. "Tevinter cannot be allowed to make the same mistake that caused the Blight in the first place."

"And who would tell them, Cullen," Fenris asked quietly. "You?" He glanced at Carver. "Or you? Maybe Lizette would like to. I did not inform you in order to be stymied by Chantry politics. I'm a Grey Warden, this is warden business. It is being handled _by_ the Grey Wardens. If the First Warden did not deign to tell the Chantry, then you should not either." For the first time, Fenris understood why Aedan always cited certain things as warden business. It saved time and argument.

Sometimes.

"That's where you're wrong," Sebastian said. "Starkhaven is near Tevinter, and is one of the places that will be hit first should they decide to invade. Kirkwall use to belong to the Imperium. Don't you think they might want to have that back. It was a point of access for their ships to get to Ferelden. We should have been told, even if Aedan didn't want the Chantry to know."

Fenris hadn't thought of that. Of course, politics weren't his area of expertise-at least, not in the rest of Thedas. He knew the ins and outs of the senate in Minrathous thanks to Danarius, but that was the extent of his knowledge.

"Then consider yourself informed."

"Wait a minute," Hawke suddenly said. "Varric knew about some of this, didn't he? Oh, I'm going to kill him. He's been telling Malcolm this insane story about a ghost elf and the Fade. That sneaky little—"

"He wasn't supposed to even say that much," Christopher said. "None of us were." He ran his fingers through his short brown hair, messing up the strands. He had apologized to Fenris years ago for what he had done and the elf had accepted it and forgiven him, but had not forgotten. He wasn't sure if he ever would. Still, Christopher had been into the Deep Roads with Fenris several times, and they had both saved each other's lives on more than occasion. That tended to strengthen bonds between two people. He treated the young mage the way he treated Merrill. He didn't actively dislike the person, just the things they did. Anders had reminded Fenris that everyone in the wardens deserved a chance, and they no one could be judged solely on the things they had done in the past. It was what they did now that mattered.

Anders was right. He had touched on the very thing that Fenris used to live his life every day, especially since he had become a warden. Besides, the mage had to watch over Merrill and make sure she didn't get into trouble. That alone had to be punishment enough.

"Whether we were told or not, we know now," Sebastian said. "If you need Starkhaven, you have my support. If Tevinter is grabbing for power, then the Free Marches are being threatened."

"Kirkwall as well." Hawke gave Fenris a smile. "Forewarned is forearmed."

Fenris glanced at Cullen and Carver. The latter had been silent and had not spoken since Fenris had told his story. Their eyes met, and Carver crossed his arms. "Well I'm going with you. If you're going to be fighting blood mages you'll need me." He looked at Cullen who sat next to him. "That is, if I have leave to go, ser."

Dropping his head back, Cullen stared at the ceiling and sighed. "Permission granted. I want reports from you. I won't tell anyone of what was said in this room, but if the threat is big enough…" He trailed off. He didn't have to explain that he wouldn't stand by silently if Tevinter made a move that the wardens couldn't handle alone.

"Agreed." A sort of relief swept over Fenris. He hadn't realized just how much it would mean to him to have their support. Not only his friends, but the resources of Kirkwall and Starkhaven as well.

"If they land in Kirkwall, we'll know about it," Hawke said, echoing his thoughts. "I wish you weren't leaving right away." She held up her hand to stop any objections from Fenris. "But I understand. I'll set Aveline and the guards to keep an eye out in Hightown, while Varric can keep his ear to the ground in Lowtown. Isabela in in port and she has contacts in Darktown and the docks. Nothing will get by the three of them."

Even as Hawke spoke, realization dawned on Fenris. He wanted to tell Hawke that it was fruitless, and not to bother searching for a ship with Anders on it—not in Kirkwall. Flemeth wanted Fenris to go to Weisshaupt. She had said that Aedan was as essential as Merrill in retrieving Anders.

If that was the case, then they would not find Anders in Kirkwall.

Still he had aid if he needed it. Anders would laugh when he heard how Fenris rode to his rescue on a prince's horse. Fenris was going to make sure that they would both live so that the elf could hear it.


	61. Chapter 61

Thanks you all for the wonderful reviews!_  
><em>

__A/N: If only you guys knew how many times you have gotten it spot on with your questions, or at least close. I always have to restrain myself not to answer and give things away.

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><p><em>Vigil's Keep, two months ago.<em>

Anders groaned and dug his nails into the wood. With his robes pushed up to his waist and his smalls around his ankles, Anders was bent over a worktable situated in a small room off of the infirmary. Fenris threaded his fingers through Anders' hair and pulled back sharply. It bowed the mage's spine and arched him into the cock that was shuttling in and out of him.

"Maker, I'm going to miss you," Anders gasped. Fenris was scheduled to leave for the Deep Roads later that day. It was a spur of the moment order, and the elf hadn't known until just this morning. He had left Nate and come straight to the infirmary, hauling Anders into the workroom and locking the door behind them.

Fenris grunted and leaned over Anders. he curled his hand over the mage's, entwining their fingers. "Every time you come in here, you'll remember me." He punctuated each word with a hard thrust. He pushed Ander's head down and nipped at the back of his neck. "As you sit here and craft your potions, will you grow hard thinking about the things I did to you in here?"

"Yes…" Anders hissed out. Andraste's tits, he would never be able to work in here again.

When Fenris pulled on the tip of Anders' ear with his teeth, the mage moaned. Fenris paused and rotated his hips, making sure Anders felt every delicious inch of his cock inside him. "Once isn't going to be enough, you know that don't you?" The elf's voice had taken on that deep and sexy timber that Anders loved so much. He shivered in response. "I wonder if they can hear us in the next room." Fenris mused with a chuckle. "Do you think they can hear you, Anders?" He pulled out almost completely and slammed back into the man below him, jerking Anders against the tabl and the legs scraped across the floor with a squeal.

Anders shoved a fist into his mouth, stifling his cries of pleasure. He knew what Fenris wanted from him, and half the fun was the fight that Anders put up to give it to him. Fenris' husky laugh reverberated down his back. He slid his hands up Anders' abdomen and spread his fingers across his chest. "Going to make me work for it, are you?"

A quick roll of his hips was Anders' only response. The elf held still as Anders fucked himself on the cock inside him. Fenris scraped his nails over his nipples. The cock in his ass, Fenris' voice in his ear, and the slight pain had Anders screaming into his fist, the sound muffled and choked.

"Good boy," Fenris said approvingly. "That's what I want to hear." He caressed down Anders' front, his hands alternating between scratching and soothing. He tunneled his fingers through the wiry blonde hair at the base of the mage's shaft.

Anders could feel his pulse thumping against Fenris' fingers. He dropped his head back, and rolled it on his shoulder. He knew his eyes were desperate and pleading when he looked at Fenris, but he didn't care. The elf craved seeing Anders like this as much as Anders wanted to be reduced to nothing more than Fenris' toy. At this point, Anders wouldn't care if Fenris threw open the door and fucked him in front of everyone in the infirmary.

Okay, that wasn't completely true. Anders would care, just later—much later. Just like he was going to be mortified when he had to walk out when Fenris was done with him.

"Please," Anders begged. "I need to come. Please." He tried to seduce Fenris into giving him what he wanted by running his tongue suggestively over his teeth, his eyes heated. "I'll suck you off in the dining hall. I'll crawl under the table and you can feed me with that fat cock of yours."

Fenris' eyes glazed over at the image and his thrusts became erratic. He sucked in a shaky breath through his nose. Anders saw it and pressed the advantage. "I'll swallow it down right there until I choke. I'll…" He stopped and shuddered. He could feel his balls drawing up tight.

"Show me," Fenris demanded. Slowing his thrusts, he placed two fingers against Anders' lips. "Show me what you'd do."

The mage's lips parted and Fenris slipped his fingers inside. Anders licked and sucked, curling his tongue around each digit. He gave a Maker be damned whimper.

"You like that, don't you, Anders? You like being stuffed and used from both ends." Fenris was pushing furiously into him now, and Anders had to brace himself against the table to avoid sliding across it. He couldn't answer, but he nipped at the invading fingers, his teeth sinking into the fleshy pads at the tips.

Fenris was cursing in Arcanum, and Anders grinned to hear it. Fenris had taught him well. Anders loved to drive Fenris wild with lust while they fucked. He pushed the elf the way the elf always pushed him. Fenris got hot with the idea of Anders doing all sorts of depraved things in public, where others could see it. Not that Anders would ever do it, but just the idea of it was a frequent fantasy they played at.

His breathing raspy and uneven, Fenris curled his other hand around Anders' neglected erection. The mage shouted in relief around the fingers in his mouth. The elf stroked him from base to tip, smearing pre-cum along Anders' shaft.

"When you come I want to hear it," Fenris said between clenched teeth. His pelvis was slapping against the mage's ass. "Fuck… Now, Anders… Now!"

Anders let loose a strangled cry as he came, his cock pumping out semen over Fenris' fist. Fenris slammed into him, one, two, three more times and then stilled as he growled through his own climax. Slumping against the table, Anders' legs gave out. He slipped down to the floor, Fenris with him. They lay on floor, the stone cooling their heated and sweat slicked flesh as they tried to catch their breath.

Cum drenched fingers pushed at Anders' lips and he opened them, cleaning off Fenris' hand. "Heal yourself," Fenris whispered into his ear, his voice silk over steel. "I'm not done with you yet."

* * *

><p><em>One days ride from Minrathous, present day.<em>

Anders shoved his blanket in his mouth as he came, stifling his cries. He lifted his semen covered hand and held it up to the dim light inside his tent. It wasn't the same. Without Fenris it wasn't the same.

They had landed in Tevinter three days ago, and were now making the journey inland to Minrathous. He'd been on that blighted ship for a month. Tears dripped down Anders' face. Maker, the closer they drew to Minrathous, the less hope Anders had of escape. When he had been young and in the Circle, he had dreamed of escaping to Tevinter. Now he wanted nothing more than to run away.

This was wrong, this was all wrong. He shouldn't be here. He should be back at the Vigil, waiting for Fenris to come home to him. Anders grabbed his pillow and pressed it over his face. It was a trick he had learned to do when he had been in the Circle. The templars did not take kindly to crying mages, so one had to learn how to do it silently. It hurt that he had to do it now, hiding what he felt for fear of retribution. But he couldn't show weakness around the magisters.

The magebane made it difficult to think. If there had been an avenue of escape before now, Anders was not in the right frame of mind to see it. It felt like a nightmare, a horrible dream that he could wake up from, where he could then curl up against Fenris and hold him close, banishing the fear.

But it was all too real.

Weisshaupt was close by, only two weeks away from Minrathous. If Anders could get away before they reached the city, he might have a chance. If only he could just fucking think. He had studied maps of Tevinter, and knew the route he needed to take. Whether he could make it on his own or not, did not matter. He had to escape before Fenris came for him. If he knew his lover, the elf was probably already on his way. He couldn't allow Fenris to step one foot in Tevinter. Anders knew that if he did, Fenris would never leave it again.

He used the edge of his blanket to wipe at his hand. His orgasm had felt empty, and left him only missing Fenris all the more. Sarah had ridden on ahead to Minrathous, and Anders was only left with a contingent of soldiers and three magisters. He didn't know their names-none of them had deigned to tell him—so he had taken it upon himself to name them. The bald one was Asshole, and the fat one, Prick. The good looking younger magister, Anders referred to silently as Impotent, or Imp for short. With his thick head of dark hair, and his chiseled good looks, Anders was certain there had to be a problem in the bedchamber for Imp to have that permanent scowl on his face.

Anders would fight if he had to. If it was death or being used against Fenris, then Anders would gladly chose death. Over the past several years, Fenris had taken it upon himself to teach Anders how to fight. He didn't think that magic was reliable in every situation, and he wanted Anders to be able to defend himself if he had need. Well, he had need now. He just had to wait for his chance and seize it.

* * *

><p>That chance came all too quickly the next morning. Anders stood next to the fire while the others broke camp. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself. He knew he shouldn't be surprised that it was so cold, but it was a shock all the same. He was lucky it was in the middle of fall and not winter, or else escaping would not be an option. With no real supplies, Anders would have frozen to death before he made it to Weisshaupt. The Tevinter robes didn't help either. When he had been younger, he had taken pleasure in wearing robes like this. But now they made him feel filthy, and he couldn't wait to get them off. Those bastards had taken his clothes. The coat he had worn for years was gone now, probably sent into the sea.<p>

Anders crouched down in front of the fire, warming his hands. He kept his movements casual, but his whole body was tense with anticipation. He flicked his eyes up towards the horses. One of them was ready to go, its saddle bags packed. That's the one Anders would take.

Someone grabbed his arm and he heard Imp's voice. "Get up, we're leaving."

In one swift movement, Anders reached out and grasped a flaming piece of wood from the fire. With a cry he reared up and slammed it into Imp's face. The magister screamed as his hands scrambled for his eyes. Anders didn't give it a second thought, he immediately ran for the horse, the burning chunk of wood still in his hand.

A few sparks landed on the back of his hand, but he gritted his teeth and held onto it. It was all he had, and Maker be damned if he was going to drop it.

He reached the horse and pulled at the peg that tethered it to the ground. It wouldn't come up and he put his whole body into it. "Come on, come on," he mumbled, frantically. His eyes darted to the rest of the camp. The others were streaming towards him, while Prick was with Imp, assessing the damage to his face.

_Serves him right,_ Anders thought._ Not so handsome now, are you?_ He stumbled back as the peg pulled free.

His triumph was short lived.

The horse he had worked so hard in getting to and freeing, exploded. That was the only way Anders could describe it. Blood, tissue and organs sprayed over him. Anders stood frozen in horror. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder to see Asshole grinning at him.

He had killed the horse rather than see Anders escape. There were a thousand other ways he could have stopped Anders, but he had chosen the most gruesome. Anders couldn't fathom it, his brain unable to process what had just happened.

There was no escaping them.

* * *

><p>Anders had read descriptions of Minrathous, and Fenris had told him stories of what it looked like, but nothing would have ever prepared him for his first sight of the city. It wasn't the high walls that surrounded the city, nor was it the soaring towers of the magisters that could be seen above them that left Anders stunned. It was the Juggernauts, the gigantic golems that ringed the outer walls that stole his breath away.<p>

They were the largest things Anders had ever seen. They could crush a man easily with one foot, and sweep whole armies aside with a massive fist. Maker be praised the day that Aedan Cousland had decided to destroy the Anvil of the Void. When Aedan had told him the story, Anders had privately thought it had been a bit of a shame, even if it were never used again. But now all he could think about was the lives that had been lost in order to make these huge creatures.

His stomach rolled as they rode through the gates of the city. In punishment for trying to escape, they had tied him upright to a horse and left him covered in gore. His stomach was already sensitive thanks to the magebane, and he had spent the ride to Minrathous gagging.

He'd also had to heal Imp.

It was a testament to how far gone Minrathous was that no one looked at him twice as they rode through the city. If he had gone anywhere else in Thedas covered in blood, he would have had people screaming at the sight of him.

Not in Tevinter.

Fenris had been right when he'd said that Minrathous was just a shadow of itself. The remnants of the great Imperium could be seen everywhere, from the old and crumbling statuary of dragons and mages, to the marble houses that were cracked and badly patched. But as they drew closer to one of the towers, the condition of the city was better kept. Mages roamed freely in the streets, their elven slaves following after them. A few of those slaves had leashes, and Anders recalled how Fenris had once said that Denarius had leashed him like a qunari mage.

Now Anders felt sick for a different reason.

No wonder Fenris had hated it whenever Anders had talked so lovingly of going to Minrathous. This was no safe haven for mages. This was no utopia. To his left he saw three magisters watching two slaves fucking in the street. On his right, he saw a mage zap a slave with a lightening spell.

Minrathous was decadent. It wallowed unchecked in its hedonism and power. Maybe a younger Anders wouldn't have seen passed the glittering towers and openly used magic, but he did now. How foolish Anders felt now for all the arguments that he and Fenris had in Kirkwall. He had been so naïve. But when you were in the Circle anywhere else in Thedas, Tevinter was a beacon of hope to lonely and scared mages.

Was this what he and Justice had wanted?

It had been. Maker, help him, but it had been.

Imp pulled his horse up beside Anders and grinned at him. His face was still red in patches, but wouldn't scar thanks to Anders. "You're in luck, infirmus ille. Archon Therion the second wishes to see you personaly."

_Weak one?_ Anders thought darkly. _Who was the one screaming like a girl because his face was burned?_

Anders rolled his eyes up to the tower they were approaching. And up, and up. It glittered with gold and marble, and banners with the hooded ferryman of the Archons flew in the breeze.

"Lucky day," Anders whispered. "Now I can add an Archon to two kings, a viscount and a prince. What did I ever do to deserve such good fortune?"


	62. Chapter 62

A big thank you to everyone who is reading!

* * *

><p>Two days before they would reach Weisshaupt, Fenris lost Anders' hair.<p>

He tore the camp apart looking for it, his heart in his throat. If he couldn't keep track of something so simple as a few strands of golden hair, how was he supposed to rescue Anders? It was foolish that he became so upset over it, but it was the last thing he had of his lover. It was as if once it was gone, Anders had disappeared completely with it.

Carver tried to help him search, but Fenris only snapped and growled at him, and the templar backed off. They had resumed their former friendship as if Fenris had never left for the wardens. It comforted the elf that there was a constant in the chaos that was currently his life. Years ago, Fenris had written a letter to Carver, apologizing for not being able to stop Zevran from freeing Merrill. He had known how Carver had felt about her, but hadn't wanted to betray any confidences. Carver had written back and said he understood that when his sister was involved, there was little one could do to sway her from her path.

If Carver was bothered by seeing Merrill with Christopher, he didn't say anything. Although Fenris had seen his eyes stray in Merrill's direction more than once, his gaze wistful.

Fenris knew from the start that he couldn't keep treating Merrill and Christopher the same way he had at the Vigil. They were part of the hand that fate had dealt him, and whether for good or ill, he needed them to get Anders back.

This sickness he had inside him, this absolute hate for anything to do with blood magic was going to get Anders killed. Fenris had already made a deal with one witch, he would make as many as it would take to get Anders back. He didn't have to like what Merrill did-that wasn't the point. She was important enough for Flemeth to demand that Fenris take her along. If Merrill could in any way aid in saving Anders, then Fenris would hand her the blighted dagger himself so that she could cut her palms.

He would even offer his own blood if she needed it-anything for Anders.

He hadn't seen Anders for two months, and desperation was riding him, deciding his every action and decision. Even a single hour in the magister's hands was too long. At night, his thoughts would race over all the things that Anders could be going through. He wouldn't let himself think that Anders was dead, his mind balked at the idea. Fenris swore that he would spend the rest of his days hunting down each magister that had a hand in hurting Anders and making sure that they suffered.

"Found it!" Merrill cried. Unlike Carver, she hadn't backed down when Fenris had glared at her. She held the dirty hank of hair in her hand, and picked out some leaves that had tangled in it.

Relief washed over Fenris, but when he reached for it, Merrill held it out of the way. "You're going to keep losing it if you insist on having it in your gauntlet," she chided. "Let me make a bracelet out of it for you. That way you can always wear it without worrying."

Fenris stared at her like she had suddenly sprouted Chantry robes and was moaning the Chant. His first inclination was to wonder what game she was trying to play. He ruthlessly shoved the thought to the side. No, he couldn't think like that anymore. Merrill was a warden now, and she willingly came with him across Thedas to save Anders. What was it that Anders was always telling him? He could practically hear his lover's voice. _Actions speak louder than words, love. Besides, Pounce likes her. If she's good enough for Pounce, then she should be good enough for you._

He lowered his hand and tried to swallow passed the pain that had lodged in his throat. Maker, he missed that annoying man. He missed the way the corners of his eyes would crinkle when he laughed. He missed that charming crooked grin he always gave when he was trying to wheedle something out of Fenris. He missed the way he would grasp Fenris' hand when they sat in the dining hall, uncaring who would see them and what they would think.

Fenris couldn't speak, so he gave Merrill a brisk nod instead. With his hands clenched into fists, he turned and headed for his tent.

He was grateful when no one tried to stop him.

* * *

><p>"Do you think Aedan will show me the sword he used to kill the Archdemon?" Merrill asked as they rode through the gates of Weisshaupt. "Oghren's told me the story so many times. Did he really shoot lightening out of his eyes when he did it?"<p>

"I think Oghren was exaggerating," Christopher said softly.

"That's a shame. Why are stories always better than the reality? You should have heard what they were saying about Hawke when she killed the Arishok. I think Varric might have started most of the rumors, though. "

"Reality is more gruesome and boring," Carver offered. "At least in the stories you don't have to hear about how bodies void themselves when they die."

"Ew. I try not to think about that."

Fenris sighed. At least no one was at each other's' throats. The mood of the group had improved the closer they got to Weisshaupt. Whether it was because they were closer to Anders, or because Weisshaupt promised a warm, clean bed, Fenris didn't know.

They left their horses at the stable and headed into the fortress. Weisshaupt had changed in the three years since Fenris had last been here. He could see that the crumbling walls had been repaired, and that the wardens seemed more disciplined than they had been under Frey—or what had passed for Frey. Fenris had no good memories of Weisshaupt, and he would have been happy never coming back. But Weisshaupt meant Aedan, and Aedan meant keeping his part of the bargain with Flemeth.

He touched his wrist, pressing his gauntlet into the bracelet that Merrill had fashioned out of Anders' hair tie and his hair. Fenris was… touched that Merrill had done it. She had woven the strands through the braided coil of leather and used the silver wolf's head clasp to seal the whole thing shut. One day, the hair would unravel and fall away, but Merrill had ensured it would be a long time in coming.

Fenris had the feeling that if they weren't wearing the tabard of the Grey Wardens, they would never have gotten as far into the fortress as they did. As it was, they were stopped in the main hall by five wardens in full plate and helm.

One of them spoke to him, and Fenris could only catch some of what he said. He growled in frustration. He should have thought about that. What little of the Anderfels language he knew, wasn't—embarrassingly enough, thank you, Anders—something he could say in polite conversation. So he said the only thing he could and hoped it was enough.

"Aedan Cousland. Vigil's Keep."

* * *

><p>They had quickly been ushered into Aedan's study after that. Not only had the main hall changed,-the throne like chair was gone now-but the study had as well. When Fenris had been here last, the room had been dusty and the books little used. Now it was clean, and a hurried glance told Fenris that the books were in order on the shelves.<p>

But while some things had changed, others still stayed the same. Aedan's desk was just as massive as the one he'd had in the Vigil, and papers were piled haphazardly on top of it. The grey in Aedan's hair had spread, steel colored strands were scattered throughout his black hair. He looked older and tired, and Fenris was a bit shocked to see it. Being First Warden had aged Aedan beyond his years.

Aedan made to stand up from his chair. "Fenris, what are you—"

Fenris strode over to the desk and slapped his hands down on top of it, the claws of his gantlets scratching into the wood. "Anders has been taken."

"What?" he looked over Fenris' shoulder. "Why is Christopher with you? Is that the Viscount's brother? Who is—"

"I have no time for this, Aedan," Fenris snarled. "You need to answer some questions. I have to—" There was a light touch on the back of his neck and Fenris whirled around.

Zevran tilted his head to the side and smiled at him. "Hello, my friend. Why don't you and your companions sit down?" Fenris glared at him, and the assassin's grin only grew wider. "Unless you would rather stand. While I would enjoy the wonderful view of your backside, I don't think Aedan would like it if I looked. It is up to you." When Fenris didn't reply right away, Zevran's eyes lost their flirtatious light. "You seem upset, my friend. I hate to think that you would take your anger out on my Aedan, no? We both know that won't end well for anyone involved. Now, why don't you and your friends take a seat, and I will have some lovely Antivan wine brought up."

The two men stared each other down, and Fenris carefully removed his hands from Aedan's desk. He let out some of the tension in his shoulder. Zevran was right, the Void take him. He had spent weeks thinking that all he had to do was ask Aedan one question and then he could immediately leave to get Anders. But it wasn't going to be that simple.

Zevran nodded at him approvingly as Fenris moved to sit down in one of the many chairs scattered around the room. The others did the same, and a heavy silence fell on them.

"Now," Zevran said, "tell us who has taken the lovely Anders, so I know who needs killing."

* * *

><p>True to form, Fenris found himself on his feet and walking the length of the room. The fingers on his left hand tapped a staccato on his hip, while his right waved wildly in the air, punctuating his every word. "So here we are. I never thought the magisters would go so far as to take Anders. It was a bold move to snatch him out of the keep. They've had him for a month, a fucking month. Fasta vass, I will kill them all for this. I will show them how wrong they were to give me the powers they did."<p>

Merrill, Christopher and Carver had remained largely silent while Fenris told his story. Aedan looked over to them. "And what is your part in all of this?"

"Knight-Commander Cullen was going to inform of Chantry about Fenris," Carver answered truthfully. "I managed to hold him off by volunteering to come. I'm the official, unofficial templar presence."

"I'm here because Merrill is," Christopher explained. "Did… Did Warden-Commander Howe explain that I…"

"He did." Aedan crossed his arms. "If he thinks that you and Merrill are a good influence on each other and worth keeping around, then I trust his judgment." Aedan hadn't seen Christopher since the day he had ordered him thrown into the dungeon next to the Architect. Merrill, he knew not at all.

"I'm here because Asha'bellanar made Fenris bring me." She had her hands folded in her lap, and she looked tiny in the large chair she sat in. "I'm not sure why, but I would have come anyway. Anders is my friend, one of the first few I'd ever had."

That hurt. Fenris and Merrill were alike in that respect. Both of them had come to Kirkwall with nothing, only to find friends in places that they would have least expected. What he knew of Merrill's life among the dalish sounded lonely. Fenris knew of that loneliness, he had felt it each day during his life as a slave.

"Asha'bellanar?" Aedan asked.

"I… I have not told you of her yet." Fenris said. Now that he was here, the feeling of prying where he was not meant to returned. But it was for Anders, and Fenris would not renege on his deal. "You would know her as Flemeth. She helped Merrill, Christopher and I get to Kirkwall, cutting at least two weeks of the time it would have taken to get here."

The color drained out of Aedan's face. "Nothing good can come from making deals with her."

Fenris paused in front of Aedan's desk. "If it gets me Anders back, then I will make all the deals I need to do it. She asked me to bring Merrill, and I did. She told me Anders would die. What would you have me do, Aedan? Ignore her and wait days for a ship that will take me as far as Kirkwall, or Antiva? The deal has been struck and I am here to finish it."

"What are you saying, Fenris?" Aedan's face became guarded. "What have you done?"

"I should be the one asking you that. How did you survive killing the Archdemon, Aedan? That is the question she bade me to ask you. She told me that you could no longer run from what you have done."

Aedan rose to his feet and braced his hands on the desk. "Flemeth is using you. You have no idea what kind of game she's playing."

"And you do?" Fenris scoffed. "What did you do that the Witch of the Wilds would be so interested in me hearing the answer?" He peeled back his lips from his teeth in a snarl. "I have come a long way, and I am so close to Anders that every fiber of my being is telling me to go to him. Flemeth told me that I needed your answer to ensure that Anders would survive. By the Maker, the Old Gods and Merrill's Creators, if you do not tell me I will rip the answer from you."

"That's enough." Zevran's voice was whisper soft. "Make one move towards him and I will slip this dagger into that vulnerable place between your armor." Fenris felt a small, sharp pain near his armpit. "I do not wish to harm you, but I will if you follow through on your threats."

"Need your whore to fight your battles for you?" Fenris asked Aedan. He knew it was cruel, but he was so angry. Why couldn't Aedan just answer the question and be done with it? What was he hiding?

"Whore?" Zevran said, his tone offended. "That implies I charge for it. I'm more of a one man slut. Sometimes I think I should be paying Aedan."

Aedan buried his face in his hands. "Fuck, Zev."

"Yes, exactly," Zevran chuckled. His voice turned somber. "Trying to sneak up on me, Ser Hawke? You templars are always so loud. I will not harm our mutual friend. Fenris just needs to calm himself down."

"We all need to calm down," Christopher said. "Maybe we should get some sleep and revisit this in the morning."

The morning? Was Christopher mad? Fenris needed to know now. He trusted Aedan, he had for years. They had been through so much together, and if Fenris had ever had a brother, he would like to think he would be like Aedan. But now the man was keeping something from him, something that might save Anders' life. He couldn't countenance it.

He stared at Aedan, and his eyes bored into the man. "Please." Fenris' voice broke. "If you know anything that can save his life, help me. What lengths would you go to in order to save Zevran? Who would you make deals with? Do not judge me."

Aedan glanced over Fenris' shoulder, and the elf knew that he was looking at Zevran. His breath left him in a rush and he looked back to Fenris. "What I did was because I didn't want… I didn't want to leave him. You understand that, don't you, Fenris? The Blight… There was so much death and chaos. Blood mages, ancient curses, warring armies, betrayal, and then to find out that I would have to sacrifice the life of my best friend in order to survive it all. It was either that or die myself." He slammed his fist down on his desk, sending papers fluttering to the floor. "I was so tired. I wanted, just once, to have something for myself. But I wasn't even supposed to have that. I couldn't let Alistair die. I couldn't let him do it. Ferelden needed him. I needed him. But there was Zev and… and I am not that noble. So when she came to me…" He swallowed audibly. "When she came to me and told me that I could live. I took the chance.

"Morrigan. She was there with Alistair and I after Ostragar. She is one of Flemeth's daughters. She was taught well by her mother and she'd found a way for both Alistair and I to live. She wanted… She wanted a child from me or Alistair, she didn't care which. She said she could perform a ritual that would save us both. I couldn't ask that of Alistair. He uh…" Aedan cleared his throat delicately. "He had never been with a woman before—anyone really. He was a romantic. He believed in love and waiting for the right person. I felt it was wrong to ask him to do it."

"So you did," Fenris whispered.

"So I did." Aedan took a slow breath. "It was mortifying. Zevran had to be there with me and…" He winced at the memory.

"Why a child?" Carver asked.

He didn't understand, but Fenris knew the answer. Maker, help him, but he knew, and he answered for Aedan. "When an Archdemon dies its very essence goes into the nearest darkspawn. That's why a warden has to be the one to kill it. The taint… It makes it so it will go into a warden instead, killing them both. What she did… You helped her create a monster."

"No!" Aedan shouted. "Years later I tracked her down. I found her. She had made me promise not to follow her, but it was my child. I needed to know that I had made the right choice. I found her in the Dragonbone Wastes. She… She's gone. Flemeth lied to you, Fenris. She only wants the child and Morrigan. She can't be allowed to find either of them."

"Gone?" Christopher said. "Where did she go?"

"I don't know. Maker, help me." Aedan ran his fingers through his hair. "She went through an Elvhenan artifact called an Eluvian."

The world stopped and Fenris jerked his eyes towards Merrill in astonishment.


	63. Chapter 63

A/N: Short chapter because I've got a bit of a cold right now.

Poll! In thanks to everyone, I'm going to leave it up to the readers who Nate ends up with, complete with smutty smut smut.

So, should it be a male or female? New OC or not? anyone that is not currently in a relationship with someone and is in Ferelden is fair game.

People in Ferelden are:

Velanna

Denerou

Oghren (to be fair)

Alistair (He's going to be coming into play very soon)

Or anyone else that is in the games that I haven't brought up yet.

Or it could be a new OC.

Thank you so much for reading!

* * *

><p>It was Imp that led Anders personally into the tower of the Archon. The inside of the tower continued the trend of gold and marble that could be seen on the outside. Anders had seen nothing like it in Thedas, and he doubted he ever would. The ancient magisters had carved the bay in Kirkwall with magic, a feat that Anders still couldn't comprehend. The amount of power that it must have taken had to have been staggering. The tower was no different. It looked as if it was built from one massive solid block of marble, the stone shaped with magic and inlayed with gold.<p>

Anders could see himself reflected back in the floor and walls. He looked hideous, the blood and gore creating a gruesome mask where his eyes were the only recognizable features. He was going to meet the blighted Archon. Maker, help him.

The past three years had taught Anders a lot about diplomacy. He was still working with Wynne on Circle reform, and was in constant contact with several First Enchanters, Knight-Commanders, and various ruling powers. It was easier for Anders to write what he needed to say on parchment and send a letter, than to do it in person. He didn't have the ability to roam the way Wynne did. Fenris helped Anders more than anyone. His lover would read over what Anders had written and tell him if he was coming on too strong or not. It wasn't that Fenris didn't approve of what Anders was doing; it was more that Fenris knew his lover well, and had heard all of the arguments for mage freedom forwards and backwards. Fenris was a balance and perspective that Anders needed. He was someone that could speak for the people that knew a fear of mages and could give advice.

Anders wondered often if Fenris realized he was helping the mages of Thedas more than he thought he was. If he didn't, then Anders wasn't going to be the one to point it out to him.

So while he could focus his thoughts into a well-crafted missive, keeping his mouth shut when he was in danger was still beyond him.

And he really, _really_ needed to keep his mouth shut.

They had only made it three levels up the winding tower when they were stopped by a magister in rich black robes. He had obviously been waiting for them, and blocked the path up the twisting flight of stairs.

"Gaius…" Imp said as his lips curled into a sneer. "Get out of my way, Therion is expecting me. He won't be pleased to learn that you delayed me."

Gaius raised a dark eyebrow at Imp and looked down his patrician nose at the shorter man. "Plinius, I think you're triumph will be short lived if you bring him looking like," he raked his dark eyes up and down Anders, "that. You never did learn to clean up after yourself. And it's Archon Therion to you. You risk offence if you drag your prize in front of him drenched in blood and smelling of death." He folded his arms in the sleeves of his robes. "I will take him and have him cleaned up."

Plinius laughed. "So that you can be the one to bring him to the Archon? I think not."

Gaius took a step back and nodded towards the stairs. "Then by all means, bring him as he is. I will come with you so that I can see in person the Archon's anger directed towards you. You and Lucretia were not to harm him."

Anders' eyes darted back and forth between the two men as they argued. Maker, was this what Fenris had to live with? They were players in a deep game, and Anders didn't know the rules. No wonder that Fenris was paranoid and he hated when people didn't speak outright. There were undertones and layers in this that Anders could sense but not see.

How could anyone live like this?

"He was not harmed. I merely demonstrated on a horse that fleeing would not be advisable."

The other magister's nose wrinkled in disgust. "So you left him like that? One day even the templars will be forced to deal with you, Pliny. It won't matter how much influence your father has, or his seat in the senate."

"Just like your money and seat has brought your house nothing?" Plinius sneered. "You've said your piece, Gaius. I will remember your words well."

Gaius inclined his head and moved away. "If you wish…"

Anders and Plinius reached the next level of the tower when Plinius turned towards an elven slave that was doing her upmost best to keep herself out of sight. "You there." She flinched when she was spoken to. "Take this," he waved a hand at Anders, "to the baths and have him cleaned up. You and you," he pointed to two guards that stood along the walls, "go with her."

The tower was filled with them. Anders had seen at least six on every floor. Two would flank the top of the stairs, while two more stood guard at the bottom of the next flight. At least two guards could be seen moving in and out of hallways and doors on patrol. All of them wore armor emblazoned with the hooded ferryman of the Archon.

As he was led away, Anders couldn't help but think that Plinius had played right into Gaius' hands.

* * *

><p>The slave refused to give her name, no matter how hard Anders tried to cajole it out of her. She dug her fingers into his scalp and worked soap into the stiffened strands. He sat in a marble basin that was inset into the floor. Steam wafted around him, rising from the hot water and obscuring his vision. He wasn't sure how it was heated, and he didn't think he wanted want to know. Nothing was what it seemed in Minrathous, and knowing his luck, he would find out there was a rage demon right under him, burning away merrily.<p>

Now that was a silly thought. How would that conversation have gone? Yes, Ser Rage Demon. I have summoned you here because I want to form a pact with you. What's that? No, I don't want power or riches, just heat my bath for all eternity.

Anders' musings could only hold his fear at bay for so long before it returned in full force. What was he going to do? The Archon's tower was heavily guarded, and Anders was about to meet one of the most power mages in Thedas. Granted, being Archon did not have to mean power magic wise, but it did denote a certain cunning in order to get the senate to elect you as Archon.

He was in a strange land, in a stranger city, with a political clime he couldn't even begin to hope to understand. He had a blighted slave of all things washing his hair, like he was some sort of child and incapable of doing it himself. She was washing blood off of him with no more expression than if he had doused himself in wine.

The door opened behind him and the slave finally showed some reaction. Her fingers froze on his scalp and then lifted completely. Anders turned and saw with some trepidation that Gaius stood staring down at him.

"We don't have much time, so I will make this brief. If you breathe a word of what I am about to tell you to another soul, I will make sure your stay in Minrathous is not a pleasant one."

Anders glanced at the slave who had moved off to the side, her eyes downcast.

"She will not say anything, nor will the guards," Gaius said, correctly interpreting Anders' look. "Plinius is so easily led. He forgets who supplied the Archon with the slaves and guards he surrounds himself with." He shoved his hands into the sleeves of his robes. "You have the misfortune of visiting Minrathous in unstable times. I am here to make sure that whatever the Archon asks of you, you will not give."

"Visiting?" Anders scoffed. "I don't call being kidnapped visiting. If you don't want me here, then why not just let me go."

"It would be much easier to kill you," Gaius bluntly said. "Which still might happen. Therion will offer you many things, and you will refuse each one."

Anders slowly shook his head. "What could he possibly offer me other than my freedom?"

"What do you think, child of Raimund and lover of the Key? Therion means to see you on the throne of the Anderfels. He wants to use your relationship to Danarius' folly in order to bring the slave to heel. Those of us in the senate that know of his plans do not wish to see either of those things come to pass."

Anders hadn't been expecting that. He knew he had been brought to Minrathous in order to lure Fenris here, but he had not thought... Being Medwin's brother hadn't changed Anders' day to day life. It was usually the furthest thing on his mind.

Medwin had taken his throne with the backing of the wardens. It had been swift and decisive. There had been a few grumblings from the barons, but Medwin had gathered them all in Weisshaupt and told them that he would be king, and that the barons would just have to deal with it. Having the wardens standing behind him while he did it had helped quell any objections. It was the kind of thing that Anders could never have done. Medwin knew what he needed to do in order to talk to his fellow Anders and get them to comply. Anders on the other hand, would have mucked the whole thing up. Best decision he'd ever made talking Medwin into becoming king.

"Why are you telling me this?" Anders asked. "What's in it for you?" He wasn't stupid. Gaius wanted something more than just Anders compliance. Not that he had to ask. Anders would never betray his brother. Not to mention the foothold into the rest of Thedas that would give the Imperium.

"Money and stability," Gaius responded baldly. "Tevinter cannot survive a war on the scale that Therion will throw us into. We are a dying way of life, and instead of putting our resources into what makes us powerful, he proposes we start a war with the Anderfels. Our cities are built on the backs of slaves and from magisters more powerful than any currently living. Minrathous might have the Juggernauts, but that will not be enough to prevent the rest of Tevinter from burning when a horde of angry Anders comes sweeping across the border. Too many in the senate agree with his plans." His lips curled in a sneer. "They think that you and Danarius' pet will return us to the old days. I am much more practical. My house has made its fortune on the slave trade, and I'm not the only one. War would mean armies of slaves, which would mean that they could not be fully trusted to not defect to the other side. Our system would collapse."

"So," Anders replied slowly. "You're telling me that you don't want me to agree to let the Archon make me king, so you can keep on making money off of elven lives?" He threw back his head and laughed. "How did you find out about me anyway? It's a warden secret now. I haven't stepped foot in the Anderfels in years."

The more Anders spoke, the more Gaius' eyes narrowed in angry slits. "It was easy enough. We've had someone in Weisshaupt for a very long time. He was there when you arrived, and Minrathous knew within a few weeks. He also was able to gain possession of a very interesting letter from a young Ferelden warden. Did you really think that Minrathous would let Weisshaupt sit so close to the Tevinter border without having someone on the inside?"

"Not much good that did you in the long run, though. You screwed up when you tried to take Starkhaven and Weisshaupt. It was very badly done." Some of the blood tinged soap dripped down his face and he ducked his head under water.

But when he tried to come back up, he couldn't.

Something was pressing him down into the water, and Anders made the mistake of opening his mouth in surprise. Water poured passed his lips and he began to choke, flailing wildly. His hands slapped the air above his head to find there was nothing there. His lungs started to burn from lack of air, his brain panicking.

Abruptly the force was gone and he broke the surface. He leaned heavily on the side of the bath, coughing up water and gagging. Sandaled feet blocked his line of sight and he glanced up.

"Don't underestimate me, Adelric. You will serve me better alive than dead, but I have no compunctions about killing you. The magisters you have met before were nothing more than the lackeys of Plinius and Lucretia. They are of the same ilk, and do not understand the meaning of the word restraint. I do. I can either be your best friend here in Minrathous, or your worst enemy—choose wisely. Plinius and Lucretia have the ear of the Archon. Lucretia through sex and Plinius through his ambition."

"Why not… kill me…" Anders gasped.

"If I killed you too soon, then they will find another way to get what they want. This plan to capture Thedas through the royal lines is an idiotic one. Either the Archon must be made to see it, or the senate. If it is the senate, then they will bring Therion down, and the end result will be the same. As long as you refuse, then it will give me time to either convince Therion he is in the wrong, or show the senate he is unstable."

Anders chuckled weakly. Help the slaver with his political machinations? Why the fuck not? Anders must have done something horrible in a past life, like eating orphans or kicking Andraste's puppy. Gaius wasn't the only one who needed time. Anders needed it as well. If he could find a way to get out of the tower, he might have a chance to lose himself in the city and escape to Weisshaupt.

He was good at escaping towers. How hard could this one be?

"Fine, but I won't let them hurt Fenris. What they want him to do…"

"What they want him to do is blasphemy," Gaius finished. "Going into the Golden City was the beginning of the end for us. If the elf steps foot in Minrathous, he will be killed."


	64. Chapter 64

A/N:

Untitled: Fun fact. Adelric means Noble Ruler. I was slightly broadcasting what I was going to with Anders when I picked it.

* * *

><p>"Where did you get this?" Merrill said in awe.<p>

Aedan had brought them all into the bowels of the fortress, down windings stairs and through a series of heavily guarded doors. The room they were in was bare, except for the two flickering torches on the walls, and the large mirror that sat in the middle of the room.

"Kirkwall." Aedan stood in front of the mirror with his arms folded. He stared at the cracked surface. "I believe it was yours once."

"No," Carver stated flatly. "No good can come of this. I thought it was locked in the Gallows. How did you get a hold of it?"

Aedan shrugged. "It was simple enough. When I did some digging into Merrill's background, Viscount Hawke told me of the Eluvian. I in turn informed the Knight-Commander I needed it."

Fenris shook his head. He should have known. Aedan would never let a known blood mage into the wardens unless he was absolutely sure that she posed no danger. For all of his talk of allowing the outposts to police themselves, he still couldn't let go of the Vigil.

"You checked up on me?" Merrill gave Aedan a wounded look. "Why?"

As he rubbed at his neck, Aedan managed to look contrite. "Look, I didn't know a thing about you. Nate assured me that you were behaving, but I had to be certain. What would you have done in my place?"

_Not allowed her to be made a warden_, Fenris thought. The elven woman was a study in contradiction. She was sweet and loyal to her friends, but she was also capable of some of the stupidest and most dangerous decisions that Fenris had ever had the displeasure to witness, decisions that could get herself and others killed. She hadn't touched blood magic since she had become a warden, and had proved herself invaluable. She was powerful, even without the blood magic. It confounded Fenris. He didn't understand her, and didn't think he ever would.

Still, she had willingly come with Fenris to rescue Anders. If she could help in anyway, then Fenris would never question the things she had done again.

"You still shouldn't be playing with that… thing," Carver insisted. "Merrill's Keeper was very explicit on how dangerous it is. I can't believe Cullen allowed you to have it."

"I would be willing to bet he was glad to be rid of it." Fenris tapped a claw tipped finger on his bottom lip in thought. "I don't understand, how is this supposed to help me rescue Anders?"

"It's not," Carver flatly said. "If Flemeth wants this Morrigan, and she went through one of these…"

"Then I was tricked," Fenris said softly. "Why am I not surprised?" And he truly wasn't. He had been expecting something like this from Flemeth. The witch did not do favors out of the kindness of her heart. She had only wanted Merrill to get together with Aedan and his unwise need to find his child. Meanwhile, Minrathous was only weeks away. _Anders_ was only weeks away. "I have done as the witch asked and now we need to move on. We leave in the morning."

"No!" Merrill placed her hand on Fenris' arm. She didn't move away or flinch when he glanced down at her hand. "Fenris, this can help us. You've said so many times that even entering Minrathous will be dangerous. The Elvhen used the Eluvians to communicate and travel over long distances. When Tevinter conquered our people, they stole the Eluvians along with everything else. They could never get them to work properly, but think on how many of these must still be in Minrathous."

"They aren't _my_ people, Merrill," Fenris snapped. "And if the ancient magisters could not get them to work correctly, why do you think we can?"

"Hey!" Christopher said. "Don't yell at her."

Merrill ignored Christopher and locked eyes with Fenris. In the month they had traveled together, Fenris had seen a side of Merrill he hadn't known was there. He used to think she was easily cowed and misled, but he knew differently now. She had a spine of steel, one forged in the doubts and misgivings of her own clan. Merrill could stand up for herself when need be.

"Because Asha—Flemeth thinks I can. Why else would she send me here? Why else would she make you promise to ask Aedan how he survived the Archdemon? _Our_ people believe that she only touches those that can change the face of the world. She is neither evil nor good, she just is. If she believed enough to intervene with you personally, then we had better pay attention." Her eyes searched Fenris', and when she was sure that he was listening, she removed her hand.

"This Eluvian was first found just before the last Blight. Two hunters discovered it in an ancient ruin. One of them disappeared that day, the other… The other died of Blight sickness shortly after. Before he died, Mahariel said that Tamlen had seen something in the mirror—a city. If I can just fix it, I know we can use it to travel. The magisters don't know the old ways. They only know what little was forcibly taught to them—most of that has been lost."

Fenris ran a finger down his throat, tracing one of his brands. "Not all of it. Don't underestimate the magisters. Even if you fix it, we can't be sure it will take us to Anders."

"I know you have never thought well of me, Fenris." When he opened his mouth to reply, Merrill held up a hand. "No. I know you haven't. You never made a secret of it. I appreciate that you haven't said anything deliberately cruel to me in years, but I know when you're thinking it. You get these wrinkles in between your eyebrows like your head hurts." She pointed at him. "Like that. Exactly like that."

Fenris fought to smooth out his features and Merrill gave him a small smile. "We're friends, whether you like it or not. And as your friend I am telling you, that if Flemeth says that the whole of Thedas is in danger, then we'd best listen to her."

Shooting his gaze over to Aedan, Fenris gave him a questioning look. Aedan had had more dealings with the witch than any of them.

"Flemeth lies, she manipulates, and she has little regard for the lives of others." Aedan said. "She's one of the most dangerous creatures I have ever come across, and I would kill her a second time if given the chance. That being said, she values her own life more than anything else. She has a vested interest in seeing Anders saved."

"Why do you say that?" Fenris asked.

"There are a thousand ways she could have gotten Merrill to Weisshaupt, and instead, she chose to do it through you. I'm starting to think it's not Morrigan she wants."

"She could have just asked me," Merrill said. "I would have gone."

"Especially when you were living in Kirkwall," Carver added. "There were days Marian and I couldn't pry you away from that mirror."

Fenris glanced from one person to another. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists. "Three days. Do not ask me to give you more time. I cannot. If it is not working by then, we will leave and find another way into the city."

For the first time since they had entered the room Zevran spoke up. "I see the Maker has listened to my prayers. I have been bored here, yes? It's nothing but fortress, wardens and snow." He flashed a grin at Fenris' disgruntled look. "Don't look at me so. Thinking of inventive ways for Aedan to fuck me can only entertain me for so long. There is no intrigue here, no assassins lurking in the corners-other than myself. It has been very dull. You should feel sorry for me, my friend."

* * *

><p>Anders stood front of the massive doors that led to the Archon's Seat. He nervously smoothed down the deep blue robes that he had been given. He had never worn anything so rich in his life. The fabric felt soft and decadent against his skin. When the light hit the material just so, he could see the fine silver threads that had been woven into it. The cost of these robes could feed all of Darktown for a year.<p>

He was waiting with three guards in a large room with enormous marble columns arranged in precise lines. Carved into each one were depictions of the Old Gods, their eyes inlaid with jewels that flashed in the light from the magical sconces affixed to each wall.

_Thanks a lot, Dumat,_ Anders thoughts as he studied the scene of the god Dumat giving Archon Thalsian the secrets of blood magic. _I really appreciate all that you have done for the world._

After Gaius had left him, the slave had resumed bathing Anders as if the magister had never appeared. His hair had been scrubbed free from the blood and grim of the road, but it still fell in uneven lengths in the back. He rubbed a hand on his chin and felt the several weeks' worth of growth. Maker, if it wasn't for the robes, he would look like one of those insane maleficar that the Chantry seemed to think roamed the world, waiting in hedges for decent Maker fearing people. Beards were not a requirement in a mage, any more than it was in a dwarf, but some people—mages included—couldn't let go of that image.

Why would Anders grow a beard and deprive the world of his handsome face?

The doors opened with a crack, and Anders' heart raced. He had to remember that down below all of the decadence and riches, Tevinter was ruled by the Circle. Anders understood Circle politics, even more so these past few years. If he kept that in mind, then he just might survive this.

* * *

><p>The Archon's Seat was a literal and figurative name. It denoted the top most floor in the tower where the Archon took audiences. It was also the large throne that sat in a raised dais on one end of the room. The chair depicted all seven of the Old Gods, their bodies intertwining to form the large chair. Like in the columns outside of the room, they had jewels for eyes, larger than any Anders had ever seen. It was meant to intimidate, and show anyone that entered the might of the Imperium.<p>

It worked.

Anders shoved his hands into the sleeves of his robes to hide the way they trembled. _You're in the Circle and a templar just caught you with a pretty girl. Her robes are around her waist and her legs are up in the air,_ he told himself._ Don't make a snide remark or they will punish the girl. Keep calm and don't let them see your fear._

He had a guard behind him and two more on either side, ushering him forward. Ahead of him, Plinius stood at the bottom of the dais with Sarah. She had changed, and was unrecognizable from the quiet, shy girl he had known at the Vigil. Her robes were a dark, blood red, and her hair was curled elaborately on top of her head. At her throat and wrists, diamonds' glittered. Anders was willing to bet that each piece of jewelry she wore was enchanted in some fashion.

It hurt to see her like that. It reminded Anders how much of a fool he had been.

Archon Therion the Second avidly watched Anders approach. With his black robes against the equally dark throne, he seemed a part of it. He sat stroking his long grey beard, and Anders noticed perversely that he was balding, his ruthlessly short hair starting higher than it should.

It made him seem more human, and Maker knew that Anders needed that.

The guards stopped in the middle of the room, and Anders followed suit. They dropped to their knees with a clang of armor and bowed their heads. Anders stood, his teeth clenched. He was a prisoner, and a Grey Warden. He wasn't going to start out by bending knee to his jailor. They already saw him as weak. Anders didn't mean to have them think him pliable as well.

"You will bow before the Archon!" Plinius shouted. Anders noticed that he had changed his clothes as well. And that they were a match for the Archons.

_Bootlicker_, Anders thought with derision.

He made no move to do as Plinius demanded. Instead, he addressed the Archon directly. "Archon, I am Anders, a Warden of the Grey. Why have I been taken? If you needed warden aid, you should have applied to Weisshaupt and the First Warden directly." Good, that sounded confident. His accent was flawless as well. Years of studying Tevinter texts, and his time with Fenris had made Anders fluent in Arcanum.

"I was under the impression that Lucretia explained to you why you are here." Therion's voice was deep and resonated throughout the room. Anders could see why he had been elected Archon. He could easily imagine him making grand speeches in front of the senate.

And terrifying them.

"If you mean Sarah, then yes. But I find myself astonished that you would go through all the trouble for one ex-slave."

Therion laughed, and the sound sent a shiver of fear down Anders. "Very good, Adelric. But we both know that he is more than a mere slave. Danarius' pet has proven hard to capture. It was decided that it would be easier to have him come to us."

"Fenris won't come." Maker, he hoped Fenris didn't. Anders knew it was a futile wish, but it was one he made all the same.

The Archon leaned forward, and Anders was reminded of how the Arishok use to sit, peering down on Hawke as if she was a strange bug that he wasn't sure if he wanted to squash or study. "He will. Lucretia has assured me of his devotion to you. It borders on obsessive, does it not? He will come. Especially when you are paraded in front of Minrathous and the rest of the world as the rightful King of the Anderfels. All of Thedas will know who and where you are. I am given to understand he does not share you well."

Anders' eyes darted to Lucretia. All those time she had poured his heart out to her when he had thought she had been doing the same, she'd been probing for information on his relationship with Fenris. "The Anderfels already has a king."

"A much younger brother." Therion sat back in his throne. "It's a crime that he has taken what is yours because you're a mage. Tevinter on the other hand, sees your claim as the rightful one. We are a friend to mages everywhere. How could we turn a fellow mage away when he comes asking for help?"

Anders couldn't keep the horror off his face. "You can't force me to do this."

"It's already been done. Your presence here is proof enough. When all of Minrathous sees you in the games to be held in your honor, the Anderfels will know it too."

* * *

><p>Anders stared down the food that had been brought to him. More magebane… He had been shown into a lavish room in the Archon's tower. The room was covered in more of that fucking marble. Anders was sick of it, the smooth stone endless. He picked up his plate and threw it. It smashed against the wall, smearing meat and fruit, and sending shards flying.<p>

A sob escaped his lips. He couldn't allow them to do it. Gaius was right it would cause a war of untold devastation. And Medwin… He would never betray him—never. He had never acknowledged their relationship. He hadn't wanted to cause his brother problems. Anders had to content himself with their infrequent letters.

And it seemed that the Archon didn't even need Anders' assent.

Anders dropped to the floor amidst the broken pieces of his plate. A large shard stabbed into his hand, cutting his palm. Calmness swept over him, an emptiness that felt like a great big hole where his heart was. He picked up the shard and held it up to the light. He hadn't felt like this in a long time. Not since Fenris had gone missing and been presumed dead many years before.

Would they still be able to perpetuate their lies if Anders wasn't there? He didn't think so. Blood sluggishly dripped down his arm. There would be no reason for Fenris to return to Minrathous if Anders was dead. The Archon would lose any chance he had of gaining the Anderfels. Anders knew the precise place he needed to cut that would bleed him out in minutes. All he needed to do was—

The door opened behind him and slammed shut. "It is you. When I heard I wasn't sure."

Anders jerked his head towards the voice, and his eyes widened. "Feynriel?"

* * *

><p>AN Part Two!: Shadowfox was the one that poked me long ago with maybe having Fenris and Anders going to Tevinter. The plot bunny wouldn't die no matter how many times I tried to kill it with fire. You can blame all this on her. ^_^


	65. Chapter 65

Thank you everyone for you continued support!_  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>Kirkwall, eight years ago.<em>

"You're a fool, Hawke." Fenris had his hands braced on the large table in Varric's room. He loomed over Marian, his eyes snapping with green fire. "You just let a mage with the potential for a great and dangerous power, go to Tevinter."

Anders had to give Marian credit; she didn't back down or quail in her chair. Instead, she gave the elf a glare of her own. "I wasn't about to make him Tranquil, Fenris. I would never do that to another mage, no matter what they've done. It's evil."

"You think all mages are like you, and you're wrong. The magisters will corrupt him if the demons don't get to him first. This wouldn't have happened if you'd brought me with you."

"And this is exactly why I didn't bring you," Marian shot back. "He was just a scared kid."

"Was…" Fenris' nose wrinkled in disgust and anger. "You say he can walk in dreams and shape them to his will. How much more dangerous does someone have to be in order for you to see that they need to be put down?" He turned his eyes on Anders when he spoke.

"No… No, no no…" Anders stood up and pointed at Fenris. "You aren't going to turn this into another one of your rants about 'the abomination'. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm different?"

Varric sat across from Marian and they both flicked their eyes back and forth between the two men. Fenris slapped a palm on the table. "You are no different or special. There is no such thing as a mage that can control a demon. The magisters—"

"Oh, here we go." Anders crossed his arms and cocked and eyebrow at the elf. "What's it going to be this time? Why can't you see that you want all mages to continue to suffer under the same tyranny of slavery that you did? Why would you wish that on anyone?"

Anders was so tired of this. He was tired of trying to make Fenris see past his hate. He was tired of fighting with him. He was tired of how much he enjoyed seeing the way the elf's eyes flashed when he was angry. Maker, something was seriously wrong with Anders to get such a dangerous thrill out of that.

Fenris pushed away from the table. "I only hope that you do not regret letting the boy live, Hawke."

* * *

><p><em>The Archon's Tower, present day.<em>

Anders managed the smallest of healing spells on his hand. The cut didn't disappear as it should. Instead it scabbed over, becoming several days old in an instant. He sat at an ornate table—not marble, thank the Maker-placed to one side of his room, Feynriel across from him. It had been years since he'd last seen Feynriel. His face had lost the youthfulness it once had, and even his eyes were harder than what Anders remembered.

"Gaius, huh?" Anders frowned down at his palm. At least it was something. Magebane never lasted long, and his last dose must be wearing off. He glanced at the mess he had made on the wall. That was going to cost him.

"He's a good master. He's taught me so much over the years." Feynriel leaned forward. "I couldn't believe it when he told me you were here."

"Oh, yes," Anders drawled. "Wonderful man, if you can ignore the whole slavery bit." Andraste's tits, if Feynriel hadn't come in when he had… Even if he didn't know it, Anders owed him his life. Falling into despair wasn't like him. When he'd been in the tower he had thought once or twice about taking his own life. But when one got down to it, what mage hadn't? He'd fought his captivity then, and he would fight it now.

"You don't know how things are in Tevinter."

Maker, was Anders really going to be hearing this again? He'd thought he was done with the whole 'Tevinter is an evil place of doom and gloom' bit. He got it, Minrathous was the Void. Now, could he please leave?

"I think I understand well enough," he replied dryly. "I guess you should be lucky you weren't made a slave."

"I _was_ made a slave. The lucky part was when my master found out what I could do. He freed me and I've been with him ever since. With my help, he's become a force to be reckoned with in Minrathous."

Anders didn't like the sound of that. "Your help? Please tell me you're not—"

The smile that Feynriel gave him was a little bit too predatory for comfort. "Gaius supplies most of Minrathous with slaves and guards. They all report to Gaius—whether they know it or not."

"What have you done?" Anders sat back in his chair, stunned.

"You act like I'm doing something awful," Feynriel chided. "But I'm not. Not here. You say you understand what Minrathous is like, but you still are surprised." He held up his hand, palm up. "On one side, you have the senators. Centuries of inbreeding and arranged marriages have produced some of the most powerful mages you will ever see. They rule through fear, and have no scruples about using demons and blood magic." He held up his other hand. "On the other side, you have wealthy houses that may or may not be a part of the senate. They can have strong magic in their blood line, but rarely if ever use blood magic or traffic in demons. They have risen to power in other ways, usually with gold. They might not have the power in the senate that the others have, but they are wealthy enough to survive and even thrive." He moved his hands up and down, like he was balancing a scale. "When one faction grows too powerful it usually raises the ire of the other, and balance must be restored. Minrathous is constantly in flux, and only the smart survive."

Lowering his hands, Feynriel gave Anders a small smile. "I've found I'm pretty damn smart. If going into the dreams of slaves can give my master information to keep his house safe, then I'll do it—gladly."

"Why are you here, Feynriel?" Anders asked with trepidation. His mind had been his own since he and Justice had parted—since he had last been in Weisshaupt. Anders wasn't going to give up that freedom. If Feynriel so much as made a move towards him…

Feynriel laughed. "Oh, don't look so scared. I just wanted to see you. You and Hawke helped me when I needed it most-several times." The smile fell off his face. "I wanted to warn you. Plinius and Lucretia are dangerous. They are the ones that hatched this scheme to kidnap you. They both have the Archon's ear—Lucretia especially."

Now it was Anders' turn to laugh, but the sound lacked any mirth. "I think I could have figured that one out on my own. You can go back to Gaius and tell him that his warnings came too late. The Archon is going to try and make me king, whether I want it or not." This was a nightmare. None of this could be real. Maybe he had tripped over Pounce and had hit his head. That was it. He was unconscious on the floor with Pounce sitting on his back.

"He's heard already."

Anders stood up and threw out his arms. "Then what does he expect me to do? I won't go along with the Archon's plans, but it seems he doesn't want my consent. They are going to have blighted games in my honor in five days." He tapped his chest. "_Me!_ I won't let them do it, but I won't let them kill me either, and Gaius won't help me escape." Anders knew he was shouting, but he didn't care. What more could they do to him at this rate. "I want to go home. I miss my lover, and I want my blighted cat!" When he was done, Anders stood panting, his eyes locked with Feynriel's.

For a long time, neither of them said a word. Feynriel finally sighed. He propped his elbows on the table and settled his chin in his folded hands. "I can't go against my master. I owe him almost as much as I owe you and Hawke. But… There is going against him and helping you to escape, and then there is helping you contact those that can aid you." His eyebrows drew down sharply. "If you breathe a word to anyone of what we're doing, I'll deny it and make sure that you never have a peaceful sleep again."

Anders felt a wild surge of hope. If he could contact Aedan, maybe they could figure out a way to free Anders. Logically, he knew that Aedan was the right choice. Weisshaupt was not far, and Anders wasn't sure where Fenris was. For all he knew, his lover could still be in the Deep Roads, unaware of what had happened. But his heart cried out for Fenris.

"What do I need to do?" he asked. Anything, he would do whatever Feynriel asked of him.

"You just need to go to sleep."

* * *

><p>Fenris growled as he rolled his hips, thrusting his cock through his slick fist. His other arm was thrown over his head, and his fingers dug deep into the pillow. With his eyes squeezed closed, Fenris spun rapid fast fantasies.<p>

Anders on his knees while Fenris' cock shuttled in and out between his lips.

The mage tied up. The ropes tight enough to dig into his skin, but not enough to hurt him. He was on his knees with his face pressed into the mattress. Fenris didn't touch him, just looked at the way the rope wrapped in between his ass cheeks and pried his muscular backside apart.

Fenris sucked in shaky breath after shaky breath through his nose. He dug his heels into the bed, and slammed his cock through the tight ring of his fingers.

Anders on his hands and knees on one of the tables in the dining hall at the Vigil. His mouth hung slack in pleasure, while breathy moans escaped his lips. The whole keep watching, their avid eyes on the two men. Fenris gripping Anders tightly by the hips as he pounds into him.

"They can see you, Anders." Fenris, growling into Anders ear. "They know what a whore you are. Which one will be next? Which one should have that talented mouth?"

Anders' voice, laced with need. "All of them. I want all of them. You're the only one that can have my ass."

The tightness of Anders' ass, his pleas for the cocks of strangers and friends alike. Anders opening his mouth as a faceless warden approached him, his erection brushing against Anders' lips. The warden's look of surprise and pleasure at the way Anders' skilled tongue bathed the tip of his cock.

The knowledge that Anders was his. His to do with as he pleased. That—

Fenris clenched his teeth to prevent a moan from escaping. His cock pulsed in his hand, and cum jetted out, splattering over his stomach and chest. Blood roared in his ears as he stroked his erection, milking his orgasm. His muscles went abruptly lax, and he stared up at the ceiling as he tried to catch his breath.

They had been at Weisshaupt for a full day, and he was beginning to think that Merrill just might be able to fix the Eluvian. Between the vast knowledge that Aedan and Merrill had about it, and with Christopher's help, they had managed to repair the last of the cracks. It was eerie looking into a mirror and seeing nothing reflected back.

Carver had elected to stay with the mirror while the others worked on it. He had stood guard by the door, his greatsword in his hands. If anything went wrong, Carver had been ready.

Fenris and Zevran were out of their element, so they closeted themselves in Aedan's study and poured over maps of Minrathous. They had several places marked out that seemed most likely choices for where they were keeping Anders. Neither of them had been to Minrathous in years, but the city was ancient and unchanging.

Some of the maps in Weisshaupt were old, and most of them pertained to the Deep Roads. As Fenris examined them, an idea had come to him. If the Eluvian wasn't going to help like they thought it was, then they would take the Deep Roads to Minrathous. It wouldn't get them into the city, but an entrance was close by—a half a day's journey. This way, they wouldn't have to fear being seen as they crossed the border.

Fenris slipped from the bed and padded over to the washbasin. He cleaned himself up, and tried to ignore how hollow his climax had felt. Even with the fantasies he had dreamed up, the act had felt rudimentary and empty.

On the way back to the bed, he blew out the candle. He crawled back under the covers, and was grateful to have a bed to sleep in instead of the ground. The mattress could have been falling apart and stuffed with old clothes like the one he'd had in Kirkwall, and it still would have felt wonderful.

In moments, he was asleep.

* * *

><p>Fenris sat in a field. The breeze gently blew the tall, yellow wildflowers, and he watched them sway. With the clouds overhead, the sun was neither too hot, nor too cold. Falling back, he stretched his arms over his head, letting the sun warm his skin. He had taken his tunic off, and the grass underneath him was soft and cool.<p>

The grass rustled and Fenris turned his head. Anders was rushing towards him, and he had a panicked look on his face. Wait, that wasn't right. Anders looked… strange. His hair was pulled back into its usual ponytail, but he looked younger than he should, and he even had an earring in his ear.

Anders skidded to a halt and dropped to the ground. He reached out to Fenris with desperation. "Love, I don't have much time. You need to listen to me."

Grabbing his hand, Fenris pulled Anders on top of him. "Why talk when we can do much more interesting things?" He ran his finger over the hoop in Anders' earlobe. "When did you get this?"

Anders braced his arms on either side of Fenris head. "What?" The elf tugged on the earring and Anders winced. "Maker... Seriously?" He ran his hand over his face and hair. "Feynriel warned me I might look different." His eyes roamed over Fenris and his expression saddened. "Oh, love…"

Fenris' skin was no longer marked by any brands. Smooth olive skin was bared for Anders' gaze. The mage gently touched Fenris' hair, his fingers shifting the near black strands. "I'd always wondered…"

"Why are you so sad?" Fenris didn't understand. This was _their_ field. Nothing could touch them here. There was never any sorrow in the field—only joy. They met here often, away from everything else in the world. Sometimes they just sat and talked for hours. But more often than not they made love, their bodies coming together under the sun.

"You're dreaming, love. I…" Anders ran his fingers over Fenris' face. "I know you hate it when I say this, but you're beautiful. You always have been."

"Dreaming?" Fenris gently pushed at Anders and sat up when the mage moved back. "Why are you saying such strange things? This isn't right. Something's wrong." This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Fenris stood up and turned, his eyes darting around the field. It was as it always was—endless grass and wildflowers. But when his eyes turned upward he saw it.

The Black City sat in the distance, the clouds dissipating as they came near, like there was a great hole in the sky where it sat.

It all came rushing back to him. Anders, Flemeth, the journey to Weisshaupt. He spun around to face Anders and held out his unmarked arms. "I shouldn't be here. Justice will come for me. I—"

"It's all right." Anders got to his feet and touched Fenris' cheek. "We're dreaming. Remember when Hawke and I saved a half elven boy, and he went to Tevinter? He's helping me speak to you." He rubbed his thumb over Fenris' chin. "You don't have your brands here, love. Justice won't come."

"How do I know this isn't a trick?" Fenris whispered. "How do I know that you aren't a demon?"

Anders leaned down and pressed his forehead against Fenris'. "You don't. I need you to trust me. I can't remain here long." His eyes filled with tears and it broke Fenris' heart to see it. "I miss you so much. I miss the Vigil. I miss Pounce and how I wake up in the morning to a cat on my chest and you by my side. I even miss Oghren and his ability to belch Song of the Paragons."

A tear slipped down Fenris' cheek and he wrapped his arms around Anders, holding him tightly. "Maker, thank you. You're alive… Thank you…" In the back of his mind, Fenris had always feared the worst. He would never let himself say it, let alone think it, but he had been so afraid that Anders was dead, that he had done something incredibly reckless in order to get free.

The relief he felt was overwhelming, stealing his voice. He closed his eyes and breathed in Anders' scent. It didn't matter that they were dreaming, the smell of elfroot and Anders filled his nostrils. His warmth, the way Anders' beating heart hammered in his chest so hard that Fenris could feel it, felt real enough.

Anders pulled back, his eyes searching Fenris'. "Where are you? When you're awake, I mean."

"Weisshaupt. I came as soon as I could. I…" Fenris took a deep breath and explained everything. He told Anders about the note, Flemeth and the deal he'd made, the journey to Kirkwall… Everything.

"We're coming for you, Anders. I'll make them pay for thinking they could take you from me."

"No! Love… You don't know what's been happening. They want you here. The Archon…" And now it was Anders' turn to explain things. The more he spoke, the angrier that Fenris got, until his lips were pulled back in a snarl, and his hands were clenched into fists on Anders' back.

"Lucretia… I remember her. She has more than the ear of the Archon. She has his cock in a vice as well. Danarius used to talk about the rumors that said she was Therion's daughter, as well as his lover." Fenris' mind raced. "How long until the games?"

"Five days. Don't come, love. Please. I'll find a way out and get back to you. If they catch you—"

"They won't catch me. And if they do, I'll make them wish they never tried." He cupped Anders' cheeks in his hands. "Listen to me. Don't you dare tell me not to try and save you again. You're my everything. Without you my life would go back to the nothingness it was before. I won't let go of that, not until you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't feel the same way."

"You know I can't do that," Anders whispered harshly. "I've loved you for so long." He sucked in a quick breath when Fenris' lips crashed into his own. Their mouths moved over each other slow and languid, as if they had never been apart, as if they weren't dreaming and they had all the time in the world.

When they broke apart, Fenris' eyes turned fierce. "Can Feynriel bring you back to me again? I need you to look for a mirror that does not reflect, and then tell me where it is and if it's guarded. Come to me in two nights."

"I can't believe you are letting Merrill do this." Anders laughed softly. Fenris closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him.

"I'm beginning to think that I was wrong in assuming I could do without any magic in my life. Magic has brought you to me now, and magic might help free you. If… If magic can do these things… If it can…" Fenris choked on the words. He had once told Hawke that magic had tainted everything in his life. At the time it had. It had stolen his memories and his very self away from him. But magic had also brought him Anders, and it might just be what helped rescue him.

He opened his eyes and met Anders' gentle gaze. "I know, love… I know…"


	66. Chapter 66

A/N: So I had a nasty virus and lost this chapter when it was half written and had to do it again. Sorry for the wait.

* * *

><p>On the third night Anders did not show up.<p>

Fenris paced the room, while the others stood in front of the mirror. "Something's happened to him, I know it. Are you sure I was supposed to enter the Fade with that sleep spell?" His teeth gnawed on a gauntlet covered knuckle. He still couldn't believe that he had let Merrill put him to sleep with magic. But it had been the only way to make sure he slept when he had needed to.

"Yes," Christopher confirmed. "You're not a dwarf, so you entered the Fade while you dreamed. It wasn't the spell, Anders just wasn't there." He ran his index finger over the edge of the mirror and sent an experimental spark of magic through it.

Nothing… He and Merrill had been at it for hours. They just couldn't seem to figure out how to activate it. The glass remained dead and flat despite their best efforts. In desperation, they were attempting everything they could think of, even going so far as to have Carver try some of his templar talents on it.

Still nothing.

"This was a waste of time." Fenris' voice came out in a rush. "We should have left days ago. Who knows what they're doing to him? I take that back, I know exactly what they're doing to him. Flemeth was just playing with me. She had to know we couldn't get it to work on our own. Unless she counted on that, and was only looking to have Merrill fix it. If that's the case, then she doesn't care what happens to Anders. Of course, maybe she does and we're missing something—something obvious. But that could just be the trap. What if she's working for the magisters? What if—"

Aedan shouted to get the elf's attention before his thoughts spiraled any further out of control. "Fenris! Take a breath. Merrill is certain it's fixed, we just have to figure out how to activate it."

"Maybe Feynriel couldn't help Anders again," Merrill helpfully pointed out. She held out her palm towards the mirror and murmured an incantation. Power flared in the room and pulled on Fenris' brands. The magic in the room was steadily rising as Christopher and Merrill used spell after spell on the Eluvian. Each time they did it, Fenris could feel the tug on the lyrium just under his skin. He clenched his hands and resumed his circuit of the room.

"Or maybe he's dead," Fenris stated flatly.

The room went silent and Merrill abruptly stopped the spell. She turned horrified eyes on Fenris. "How could you say that?"

"Easily," Fenris retorted. "Do you think they need him breathing in order to control him? They only need his corpse. You know what was done to Hawke's mother." He flung out his hand and pointed at Zevran. "You've been to Minrathous, am I lying?"

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "This is a trick question, yes? If I give you the answer you want, then I am only going to feed your anger. If I say no, you will accuse me of lying. Besides, I only saw the barest surface of what Minrathous is like. I have not the experience you do. Do I think them capable? Yes. Do I think they will resort to that? No. You are letting your emotions get in the way of your judgment."

"I don't think he is…" Carver stepped from the wall he had been leaning against. "Using the Eluvian is a mistake. I'll keep saying it until one of you listens to reason. It's dangerous. We should be heading to Minrathous instead of playing with it." He glanced at Fenris. "I can't believe you're going along with this-of all people."

"Oh look, the templar doesn't want us to use magic. What a surprise…" Christopher mumbled under his breath.

Unfortunately, the room was small and Carver heard him anyway. "Excuse me? That has nothing to do with it."

As Christopher and Carver argued, Fenris grew angrier. They kept looking to him to make decisions that there were no easy answers for. The reassurance and relief he'd had upon awakening from his shared dream with Anders had been short lived. He'd opened his eyes with tears on his pillow, and the knowledge that Anders was in even more danger than Fenris had initially thought. He'd hurried out of his bed and pulled on a pair of leggings, before rushing to Aedan's room to bang on his door.

They hadn't believed him at first.

But Merrill had remembered Feynriel and the things he could do and what he'd had the potential for. It had been Merrill that had convinced the others that it had been more than a mere dream, more than Fenris' fervent wish to see Anders again.

Fenris and Aedan had argued about telling Medwin. Fenris hadn't wanted to involve him. While Aedan had felt he should be informed that Tevinter was going to make a move on the Anderfels. Fenris had pointed out that the wardens were supposed to be neutral, and involving Medwin would only complicate things. Besides, they could not wait the weeks it would take for a missive to be sent and a reply back. They had to move now before it got even more out of hand. Aedan had countered that since it would take so long, they might be back with Anders by then, so it would be a moot point. If something went wrong, at least the king would have been forewarned. In the end, Aedan had sent his letter.

The pressure to bring Anders back alive and quickly was mounting, and all Carver and Christopher wanted to do was argue. It set Fenris' teeth on edge. He now understood how Hawke use to feel when she would lecture him and Anders. It was so trivial. Who cared about what the templars or the mages did? It meant nothing in the face of what they were trying to accomplish.

It meant nothing when it came to Anders' safety.

"Stop!" His top lip curled in derision. "This arguing is fruitless. The mirror won't activate, so we must leave for Minrathous in the morning."

"We can do this," Christopher said. "Just give us more time."

"We have no more time!" Fenris' brands flashed in his agitation, bathing the room in its blue glow. When the light hit the Eluvian its surface rippled like water. Fenris was so startled, that his power immediately shut down. Merrill and Christopher scrambled away from the Eluvian, moving behind him.

"Do it again," Merrill whispered. Then spoke louder. "Do it again."

Behind him he could hear Carver pull his weapon free. In his periphery, he saw Zevran do the same. Fenris took a few steps towards the Eluvian and stopped in front of it. He held out his hand and took a deep breath.

"Fenris, you don't know what you're doing," Carver called.

He glanced over his shoulder. "I'm getting Anders back, nothing else matters." He turned back to the mirror and opened himself up to his brands. He took a half step into the Fade, pushing against the barrier that was more felt than seen. His whole body was enveloped in blue light and he became ethereal, neither in the Fade nor in the waking world. His hand was steady with resolve as he touched a fingertip to the surface of the mirror. It wavered, a new image reflecting back in each wave. Some of the images showed only darkness, while others displayed rooms, ruins, trees, water and rock. Whatever the Eluvians were facing was shown to him, but none of them were clear.

"Fen'Harel," Merrill said reverently. "The Dread Wolf who could walk between two worlds."

* * *

><p>The Archon's Tower was beautiful. It didn't lack for comfort or the finer things in life. Anything one could ever want was available there—if the Archon so wished it. Gold, slaves, power, these were things that one did not turn down lightly when the Archon offered it.<p>

Anders was allowed to roam the tower, provided that he did not attempt to slip his guards. He knew what Therion was doing. He wanted to show Anders all that could be his if only he would assent to the Archon's plans. He didn't need Anders' assent, but having it would make things all the easier.

Unfortunately for Therion, Anders had already been offered everything he could ever want, and had turned it down.

One floor was dedicated to books, a massive library that Anders could see himself getting lost in for months. The thought of all that knowledge that the Chantry never would have allowed him in the Circle, made his mouth water. There were so many books that there weren't enough shelves for them all. Books were piled in stacks on the floor, creating a precarious maze. What would he find if he looked? Could he find out what had been done to Fenris? Was this were Danarius had gained the knowledge to do it? It had taken a force of will in order for Anders to turn and walk away from that.

Anders had seen no one besides his guards and slaves for days. He'd had no word from either Feynriel or Gaius. If his food hadn't abruptly stopped being laced with magebane, he would have thought they had given him up as a lost cause. He knew it had to be either one, or both of them, behind his now untainted meals. Gaius supplied all of the slaves in the Archon's Tower, and he didn't think it was the Archon that had ordered the magebane to cease.

Between roaming the tower and watching for a way out, Anders had dedicated himself to searching through the library for any information about Eluvians. He had to be careful not to seem to be looking for anything in particular. The library was so massive and out of order, that he knew it might be a futile effort, but he did it all the same.

He had started a circuit around the tower, one meant to lull his guards and give him a chance to find a way to escape. He would start on the floor his room was located, leaving it to wander towards the library. Whenever he came upon a painting, tapestry or carving, he would engage his guards in one sided conversations about them. All the while his eyes were watching the comings and goings of the slaves.

Two of his escapes from the Circle in Ferelden had been through the servants' entrance. The first time he had merely snatched some clothing from one of the servants and waltzed right on out and onto a boat. The second time—really, you would have thought they would have learned by then—he didn't even bother with that. Instead he hid in a crate full of enchantments and was loaded onto a boat. The key was to find out where the entrance was, and then watch the movements of the servants and templars. If you had patience, there would invariably be a time when no one was watching as closely as they should be.

When it came to escaping, Anders was endlessly patient.

When he was younger, it had been a game to him. He'd had nothing left to lose but his freedom. Although he had always feared being made Tranquil, it was a price he had been willing to pay if it meant a chance to escape the templars. But now the stakes were higher, and his fear for Fenris made him sharper and more cautious. Where before, he would have laughed at the tricks he was pulling, now things weren't so funny. He was a grown man who had a lot riding on his ability to get himself free and stay alive in the process. He was no longer a young man that had just wanted to experience all that life had to offer him before he died. He knew what life had in store for him now, and he meant to get back to it.

Calling upon his younger, more carefree self, Anders was full of jokes and wit for the guards. It was another trick he had learned in the tower. If the templars did not see you as a threat—even if they knew better—then they would be less vigilant. He made comments about the frescoes depicting various times throughout Tevinter history. He joked that if he had known that magisters could have a bevy of beautiful slaves around them at all times, he would have come to Minrathous sooner. He talked about his cats. He spoke of how frightened he was of the templars because he was such a weak, weak mage. He didn't stop talking until his head hit the pillow each night, only to rise and do it all over again.

The day after he was supposed to have met Fenris in the Fade, Anders saw progress. He noticed that his guards meandered behind him a bit further than usual, and one of them even smiled, just the slightest quirk of his lips at a joke Anders made.

Who thought that this babbling fool needed to be watched so closely?

Not the guards. When he wandered into the library and towards the spot he had left off in his search, the guards did not follow. Instead they stayed by the massive entry way. With his back to them, Anders allowed a self-satisfied smirk cross his lips. Towers… They were all the same.

* * *

><p>"No! Go back," Merrill said excitedly.<p>

"You're going too fast," Christopher bemoaned. "I can't see what you're looking at."

"I think the one with the room looked good," Carver added. "We should stop at that one."

"There are several with rooms, you're going to have to be specific," Aedan said

Fenris' hand paused and he sent a glare over his shoulder. "Would all of you be silent? I'm doing the best I can." He had been at it for hours now. Fenris could move through the various scenes, but he was having a hard time stopping the images and getting them to solidify.

It didn't help that he was being given constant commentary.

He touched his hand to the glass, his fingers sinking into it to the tips. The images flashed rapid fire as he fed power into the Eluvian. He couldn't get them to stop, let alone long enough to see what it was they were looking at. Fenris ground his teeth in frustration. "_Venhedis!_" he shouted. "Stop!"

An image froze.

He blinked. That was it? He just had to tell the thing to stop and it would? An image of a forest with branches gently swaying in the wind solidified. It was like looking through a window. Fenris shook his head. More like a doorway. Wasn't that exactly what this was? As he watched, a deer ran through the scene, ducking around slender tree trunks.

"You did it!" He could hear Merrill clapping behind him. "Now we just need to find one in Minrathous."

"No," Fenris said absently. "We need to make sure that this is safe and that we can use it to get back." He pushed his arm through the Eluvian. He could feel warm sunshine on his hand.

"Wait, Fenris. You don't know where that leads to," Carver cautioned.

"We need to be sure. If I don't come back, find Anders." Without hesitation he stepped through—

-and out into a forest.

He turned around to see that the Eluvian was once more dull and lifeless. It stood on a raised stone dais that was covered with moss and leaves. Ivy trailed up the sides, obscuring the Eluvian's frame. His brands flared and he touched the dead glass, bring it to life. Images flashed as before, but this time, Fenris concentrated on where he wanted it to stop. _Weisshaupt_, he thought. The images sputtered, and Fenris tried again as he began to panic. "The Anderfels," he said out loud. "Aedan. Show me Aedan! Stop!"

The Eluvian ceased its flickering. Aedan was staring back at him, a relieved expression on his face. Fenris blew out a shaky breath and stepped back through.

"I think," he said as he walked into the room, the Eluvian going blank behind him. "I know how to make it work."


	67. Chapter 67

A/N: I hope everyone is keeping cool. It's been too hot in my office to write recently.

* * *

><p>Fenris tried again. "Show me Anders." The Eluvian wavered and images skittered across its surface. He slammed a fist on the mirror's frame. "Why is this not working? I hate magic. What good is it if it doesn't do what it's supposed to? Unreliable piece of shit. No wonder the ancient elves were conquered and enslaved. If this is an example of their great civilization, then the magisters needn't have destroyed their capital."<p>

"You're not concentrating," Christopher sighed. "You need to relax and picture clearly in your mind what you're asking it. Magic can only do what the wielder wants it to do, no more and no less. If your thoughts are fragmented, then the magic will be imprecise."

"Oh?" Fenris asked snidely. "And how am I to accomplish that? You act like it's so simple."

"I think of all the wonderful things in the world I have seen and the things I have yet to see," Merrill said. "It gives me focus."

"The templars teach that one just has to call upon the Maker and ask for his aid." Carver shifted and his plate mail clanked. "The Vigil is meant to strengthen that resolve and your purpose in this world. In reality, once you've knelt for a night in full armor saying the Chant, you learn quickly how to block everything else out. It's either that, or give up and leave."

"I think about how I need to get back to my Aedan and his wonderfully large—"

"Ah!" Carver shouted. "I'm not listening." He hummed a tune under his breath. "Why do you always have to do that?"

Fenris could practically hear the smirk in Zevran's voice. "If you stopped turning that lovely shade of red, I might stop."

"This isn't helping," Fenris called out. The six of them were packed and ready to leave. All they needed was a destination and that was all down to Fenris. Aedan had left his second in charge of Weisshaupt until they returned, a woman named Helena. She had been sent to Weisshaupt from Ansburg and had proved invaluable. The exclusively male population of the wardens of the Anderfels had been turned on their ears. There had been resistance at first, but Helena had slowly won their respect.

It helped that for such a small woman, she could wield a mean two handed axe.

Zevran had used dye to color Fenris' hair and disguise one of his most obvious features. It was now an inky black, almost unnaturally so. If one looked too closely, one could tell that it was not his natural color. It had been startling to see himself. He'd had brief flashes of his life before his markings, and knew that his hair had once been dark. But to look in a mirror and see it, was a different thing altogether.

There wasn't much they could do about his markings. Merrill had suggested drawing over them with more dye to make them appear as valasslin, but it wouldn't adhere to his skin properly, and the lyrium showed through in patches. They had settled on a long sleeve tunic with a high collar to go under his armor instead. None of them wore anything that would link them to the Grey Wardens—or the templars.

"What do you do when you use your markings?" Aedan asked.

Fenris blinked. How was he supposed to explain that? His markings were so attached to his emotions that he rarely had to think in order to use them. They just were, the same as a scowl or a smile. But one could do either of those things with a thought as well. The feeling he got when he stepped further into the Fade than he was supposed to, that extra thought of having to push against it, that's what he should be concentrating on.

He touched the Eluvian's surface and the images once more flashed rapid fire. "Minrathous…" he said softly. The images condensed into four instead of the hundreds that had been showing. "The Archon's Tower." He knew he didn't have to speak out loud, but it helped to give him the focus he needed.

Nothing happened.

"I don't think there is one in there," Christopher said. "But there are definitely four in Minrathous."

"Can you get it to stop, one at a time?" Aedan called out. "If we're careful, we can scout out where they lead into the city."

Fenris' eyebrows drew down sharply. That was easier said than done. One of the images showed a room, and Fenris concentrated on that one. "Stop," he whispered.

The image froze, and Christopher let out an excited whoop. "Yes! You did it!"

The others drew up behind Fenris and peered into the Eluvian. The room was dark, lit only with the glow from the Eluvian. Crates were stacked haphazardly, and there was an air of neglect.

"I don't like this," Fenris said. "Who knows where this is. It could be a storeroom in some magister's mansion."

"Only one way to find out," Zevran said. Before anyone could stop him he was slipping pass them and into the room. He turned around and waved with grin on his face. "What the Crows wouldn't pay you for this, my friend. No one in Thedas would have a mirror for fear they would find a blade to their throat." He held a finger to his lips, asking for silence as he walked to the door. Running graceful fingers over the latch, he gently pulled the door open. He glanced back and winked at them before slipping out the door.

Aedan cursed under his breath. "I hate it when he does that."

"Which is one of the reasons he does it. He's a lot like Anders in that regard." Fenris' body vibrated with the need to run through the Eluvian after Zevran. This was Minrathous, it had to be. He was close now, hours away from freeing Anders.

"Why would Anders or Zevran want to do something to annoy you? I don't understand," Merrill said.

"I'll uh… explain it to you later." Christopher cleared his throat. "Much later…"

* * *

><p>When Zevran returned with a triumphant grin on his face, Fenris felt some of the tension ease out of him. "Two slaves and they are now sleeping. This is a store, no? And it has closed for the night." The others pushed through the Eluvian, with Fenris the last to go. Without it activated, the room went dark. There was a tap on the stone floor, and Christopher's staff lit up at the knobby tip.<p>

Zevran led them silently through the storeroom and out into the main shop. Shelves filled with ancient looking curiosities lined the walls. Fenris was willing to bet they were all forgeries, and the owner did not know what he had in the Eluvian. If he did, he wouldn't have left only two slaves to guard the place.

Zevran stopped and knelt down at a door. He pulled a lock pick from one of the braids in his hair and went to work. Merrill took the time to wander around the shop, her fingers hovering over various objects. "This is pretty…"

Fenris glanced at what she was looking at. "It's a replica of the Altar of Dumat, the first Archdemon. The tongues of slaves were cut to and burned in sacrifice."

"Ew." Merrill's nose wrinkled. "That's disgusting."

"God of Silence," Aedan said. "You have to love the ancient magisters, they really knew how to scare the shit out of people."

"Nothing has changed…" Fenris heard the lock click and his fingers twitched. He had sworn to himself that he would never return to Tevinter, let alone Minrathous. But here he was, about to step back in the heart of the Imperium.

* * *

><p>On the fourth day, Anders found the entrance the slaves used to get in and out of the Archon's Tower,, and through the various floors. It was cleverly hidden by a seamless door. If Anders hadn't been watching the comings and goings of the slaves, he never would have seen it. Once he knew what to look for, he wandered up and down the tower looking for others. He found two more, one of which was on the same floor his room was located.<p>

The other was in the library.

He just couldn't figure out how the slaves were opening them. There was a trick to it, one that Anders spent his whole afternoon watching for. He had situated himself in the center of the library, sitting at a large table. Books were scattered in front of him, some of them picked at random, while others he had chosen purposefully. He had a good view of the hidden door, and was waiting for a slave to come along.

The guards had pulled back and were loitering at the entrance. Every so often, Anders would get up and move towards the door, his fingers running down the spines of books, as if he was looking for something there. He needed them to get use to his movements.

Since the library was filled to the bim with towering stacks of books, there were times when the guards could not see Anders at all. One such stack was near the doorway.

Anders glanced down at the large tome he had opened. It had the only reference he had found so far about Eluvians. It detailed how the magisters had only been able to get the Eluvians to work with great quantities of lyrium, and how few of the elvhen they had captured would tell them how they worked. It had been assumed that they hadn't wanted the Imperium to use the Eluvians to send armies through. Anders shuddered at the thoughts. If the magisters had been able to use them like that, they would have been unstoppable.

He heard the grind of stone on stone and his eyes quickly flicked towards the door. It opened a crack, and Anders took his opportunity. He stood up and walked towards it, keeping his movements as casual as possible. When the hidden door slid open wide enough, he reached inside and let loose with a sleeping spell. It wasn't very strong, but it was enough to send the slave inside tumbling to the floor. Every night before he went to sleep, Anders tested his magic to see how much of it had returned to him. It wasn't enough to do anything too offensively, but he could still cast a simple sleep spell.

_Thank you for teaching me that one, Velanna._

When he slipped through the partially opened door, Anders' eyes darted around the frame, searching for a way to shut it once more._ How do they do it?_ he thought franticly. _I'm in Tevinter… There must be some sort of spell, something that slaves with no magic can do._ He crouched down next to the sleeping slave and patted his clothing. The thin hallway was lit like the rest of the tower, with magical sconces that burned with eternal fire. His eyes lit upon a necklace at the slave's throat. He unclasped it and held it in his fist. It looked innocuous, but Anders could feel the small amount of magic in it. It was a plain gold chain with a small token dangling from the center. Anders turned it towards the light. The hooded ferryman of the Archon was engraved on it. With a small smile, Anders glanced at the partially opened door and touched the cool stone.

_Close_, he thought.

Once he heard the grinding of stone, he didn't wait anymore. He scrambled to his feet and immediately began running down the hallway and towards narrow stairs.

He went down several flights before he encountered his first slave. But the woman only saw his robes and she immediately averted her eyes and flattened herself against the wall. Maker, he could never imagine Fenris doing something like that. The Fenris he knew would have ripped out your eyes before he averted his own.

Anders didn't know how long he had been weaving through the corridors and stairs—he didn't even know where he was going. All he knew was that he was going down. Down out of the tower. His guards must have noticed that he was missing by now. His heart hammered in his chest. Maker help him if they caught up to him.

Finally, he came to the bottom of the stairs. There was a single door in front of him and he hesitated. By his count, he should be at the bottom of the tower. He glanced back the way he came. There was nothing left for it now. In for a copper, in for a sovereign. He opened the door.

Guards ringed the room with Plinius standing in the middle. "There you are. Trying to leave, are we? Very naughty."

At his signal, one of the guards strode forward and slammed a gauntleted fist into his face. Pain exploded as his nose cracked and broke. Blood poured down Anders' face, dripping into his mouth. He swiftly turned to the guard that had hit him and snatched his sword from its sheath.

_Three years ago, Vigil's Keep_

"Do all of you have to watch this?" Anders was in the practice yard with Fenris. He glared at all of the wardens that had shown up to see the spectacle. When Fenris had informed him that he would be teaching Anders how to fight without his staff or magic, Anders hadn't wanted to do it at first. But Fenris had been insistent that Anders knew how to defend himself and not rely solely on magic.

"We're rooting for you, Anders!" Merrill called. She sat on the ground with Sigrun and Christopher. Denerou stood next to them and waved.

"I know _you_ are," Anders said. He pointed at the other group of people. "But they aren't."

"I'm only here to watch the elf trounce you." Oghren laughed. "I also want to see how you're going to fight in those skirts. Five sovereigns says the mage gets knocked on his ass in five seconds."

"I'll take that," Nate said.

"I give it three." Velanna jiggled her coin pouch.

"Ah, then I will throw in for four seconds." Zevran rubbed his hands together. "What about you, my dear warden?"

Aedan waved them off. "If all of you want Anders to decline to heal you next time you need it, then go ahead. I'm not taking any chances."

"You should listen to him," Anders called. He tightened his grip on the wooden practice sword. Maker, he felt like a child with it.

"As I was saying before we were interrupted," Fenris sent a baleful glare at both of the groups, "You need to widen your stance. How you place your feet and legs are very important. If you don't have balance, then you will fall or trip. I've seen how you stand when you are wielding your staff, it is the same thing."

Anders shifted his legs so his feet were planted firmer on the ground.

"Good. Now, try to stop me." With a cry, Fenris charged at Anders. The elf's practice sword swung up high over his head, and Anders lifted his weapon to block the strike. The wood clacked against each other, and Anders stumbled backwards, but did not fall.

"Again," Fenris yelled. He didn't give Anders much time before he was attacking again. Each blow pushed Anders further and further back across the practice yard. Anders' foot hit a rock and he went tumbling backwards to the ground. He sat there panting, while Fenris touched the tip of the wooden sword to his throat.

"Have mercy, love," Anders gasped. "I told you I wasn't going to be any good at this."

"No, we'll do this every day until you are proficient enough at it. I need to know that you can protect yourself in any given situation." Fenris moved his sword and took a step back. He glanced over at Aedan. "Time?"

"Fifteen seconds." Aedan scowled. "Looks like I owe you some gold. I thought it was going to take ten."

"Whatever happened to not pissing off the healer?" Anders stood up and brushed the dust off his backside.

It was Fenris who answered. "I had a feeling about how long you could handle it this first time. Aedan just bought us some lovely Antivan wine."

_Present day, The Archon's Tower_

Anders blocked the incoming strike and ducked to the side. His sword slashed out, hitting a guard in the arm, while he kicked the other in the back, knocking him down. Behind the guards that surrounded him, was a large door.

He had to reach the door.

He heard chanting and turned, flinging out his free hand towards Plinius. "Who's the weak one now, you bastard?" The magister's eyes rolled up to the back of his head and he tumbled to the ground. The sleep spell caught the guards closest to him, and they followed him to the floor.

Pain slammed into him as one of the guards ran the edge of his blade along Anders' side. The mage ignored it, as he recalled what Fenris had told him.

_If you are injured in the middle of battle, it does not matter. Do not hesitate. Do not stop to check your wounds. That will kill you faster than any bleeding cut._

Adrenaline and terror spurred him on, and Anders leapt over the fallen bodies and ran for the door. He could hear the staccato of plate clad boots on the floor as the guards gave chase.

_Please be unlocked_, he thought franticly. _Please be unlocked._

His hand fumbled with the latch and he pulled. The door swung open, cool night air sweeping into the room. Without a moment's thought, he rushed out into the night, evading the grasping hands of the guards posted just outside.

Anders weaved through the city, running down side streets and alleyways. He ran until his lungs burned, unable to catch a breath. He ran until all he could hear was the pounding of his beating heart. He ran until his legs muscles were screaming in pain.

He ran until he could run no more, and then he ran a bit further.

By the time he was sure that he had lost the guards, Anders found himself in an alley, hunched down behind some crates filled with had to be garbage. It smelled horrible, but Anders didn't care. It was the smell of freedom.

Anders whole body began to shake, and his hands trembled as he covered his mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape.

The templars of Ferelden never did learn that they couldn't keep Anders for very long. It seemed that the Archon was learning this lesson as well.


	68. Chapter 68

Thank you so much for all of the encouragement!

* * *

><p>Fenris sank back further into the shadows as Zevran walked into their room with his contact. He had drawn up the hood of his cloak, and made himself as unobtrusive as possible. It went against his nature, but being a slave had taught him the value of not being seen.<p>

The wardens, Carver and Zevran had made their way through the city to the Dancing Qunari inn. The building had a wooden qunari hanging above the door, frozen in mid dance and a smile on his face. Merrill had laughed when she had seen it, and had to be dragged inside before she brought attention to them. Zevran had said that though it had been many years since he had last been there, he was confident that the inn wouldn't ask any questions once they saw gold.

They needed information, which had led to Zevran disappearing for an hour. When they heard voices coming down the hall towards their room on the second floor, Fenris had slipped into the shadows. It was easy to do in a room like this. It was bare except for a lone bed with a frame that looked like it was rotting. A single lamp was lit and sitting in the middle of the room, casting shadows in every direction. With the amount of people they had stuffed in one room, Fenris was hopeful his presence would be ignored.

The door opened and Zevran slipped inside with another man. He was short, and had a vaguely rat like look about him. His eyes darted around constantly, as if he was unable to keep them from moving. Fenris could have sworn he had even seen his nose twitch a few times. With his wispy brown hair and patched leggings and stained tunic, Fenris thought that his original assessment of a rat just might have been right.

"When you said you had friends with you, Zevran, I didn't know there would be so many." His voice came out in a rush and he backed towards the door Zevran had closed behind them.

"If I had told you how many then you would not have come, Tatius." Zevran sent the man a grin that was meant to reassure. "Just give us the information we need and you can have your gold. Now I must ask you to refrain from speaking Arcanum. I might understand your wonderful language, but my friends do not."

That wasn't entirely true. Besides Fenris, Christopher could read and write in Arcanum. Anders had been teaching some of his students, so that he didn't have to translate the Tevinter books of anatomy the healers used.

Fenris thought that Anders just wanted to be able to teach other mages how to read and write in Arcanum, as yet another rebellion against the Circle.

"Fifty gold," Tatius said. "What you want to know is dangerous, and I don't fancy the Archon's guards finding out I told you."

"Fifty?" Carver exclaimed. "That's robbery."

Tatius gave Zevran a significant look and the assassin shrugged. "Ignore him. He is young and doesn't know how the world works yet."

"Maybe so, but the pup needs to learn some respect. Nothing goes on in Minrathous that I don't know about. I could tell you what the Divine Cato had for breakfast this morning, down to the last detail." It was then that Fenris realized what Tatius was doing. He wasn't constantly looking around because he was paranoid, but because he was cataloguing them.

"You didn't know how many of us were here," Merrill piped up.

Tatius laughed. "That's because Zevran is good, and I didn't know you were in the city. In a few hours I would have known all." He glanced behind him and stared directly at Fenris. "I even would have known about your friend in the shadows."

"So you say…" Fenris growled.

Tatius' eyes lit up. "Traces of a Tevinter accent, but it's a little off. A slave maybe? Sometimes they mimic the speech patterns of their masters." He tilted his head to the side. "Seheron. You were born there, or at spent a great deal of time there."

Fenris' eyes narrowed in warning even though Tatius couldn't see it. "Do you even know the information we seek? Or do you want to play games?"

The rat shot Zevran another look. "You are keeping boring company, my friend. I pity you."

"What do you know?" Aedan spoke up for the first time. He had his arms crossed and he was leaning casually against the wall. If Fenris hadn't known that Aedan had paced the while time that Zevran had been gone, he might have believed his indifference now.

"Ah! I hear the jingle of coin and you hear what you need to know." Tatius held his hand out and wiggled his fingers.

With a roll of his eyes, Carver walked over to him and slapped a pouch full of coin in his hand. "Fifty is all I have, this better be worth it."

Tatius grinned and jiggled the pouch. Nodding in satisfaction, the pouch quickly disappeared into his tunic. "Now, you wish to know about a guest of the Archon? I know of him. Plinius Scipio has been very vocal about what he sees as his triumph in bringing him to the Archon." He looked from one person to another, making sure that each one was listening to his every word. It reminded Fenris of the look Varric would get when telling a tale. Maybe Tatius served the same sort of function in Minrathous. Varric collected information the way some collected lovers.

"Two hours ago, your friend escaped the Archon's Tower. Poor Plinius will not be so favored now. It's a shame really, the games are to be held tomorrow and no one in the tower has cancelled them." A malicious grin spread over his face. "They can't you see, it would be admitting that not all is well, and Minrathous' royal guest was less than willing."

Fenris' heart stopped. Anders had escaped. He felt a surge of pride. _That_ was his rebellious mage. Nothing could hold him if he did not wish it. But it also meant that Anders was loose in a city he did not know, with the guards looking for him. "Where is he?" he demanded.

"Oh?" Tatius turned too perceptive eyes on him. "That sounded fairly possessive… And now I know who you are, Fenris. The Imperium has been looking for you."

Fenris took a menacing step towards him, but Zevran moved between them. "You know better than to turn on me, Tatius. We are old friends, no? You give me information, I kill your competitors. I would hate for something to ruin such a good relationship of long standing."

"I'm not a fool, Zevran. You travel to Minrathous and get into the city without me knowing. You are accompanied by an elf who everyone is looking for and the First Warden. I don't know who these others are, and I have a feeling, that even if I did, it wouldn't matter. I trade in information, and business is good when the city is unstable. Your friends are about to make the city very unstable indeed. Plus, I would rather not have to go to sleep the rest of my life with one eye open."

The two men locked eyes, each assessing the other. Zevran's face broke out in a grin. He clapped Tatius on the back. "You would never be able to sleep again, you know that."

Tatius laughed. "I would be dead before I even left the room. I've heard the stories of what you did to the Crows. That was masterful. Did you really cut out the heart of the guild master and stuff it in his mouth? I thought to myself, 'Tatius, never piss off Zev,' when I heard that."

"Actually I—"

Aedan cleared his throat. "As wonderful as this reunion is, you haven't answered the question. Where is Anders now?"

"Where does one go when they wish to hide in a city?" Tatius asked.

Fenris sucked in a breath. Where Anders had always gone. The one place you could count on not to ask questions, and was always in need of a good healer. "A brothel."

Tatius smiled at Fenris. "Exactly."

* * *

><p>Anders scraped the razor down his jaw. The room the madam had given him was small. It had barely enough room for the bed and washbasin, but he realized that it contained everything a whore would need to ply her trade. The Mage's Staff was not as high class as the Blooming Rose or the Pearl, but it still was just as welcoming to a mage that needed to get off the streets. Anders had wandered Minrathous until he had found himself in front of the brothel. Old habits die hard, and Anders had learned early on that when one escaped a tower, you better get your ass to a brothel. The templars would venture into deep caves and dense woods looking for an apostate, but a brothel? Any templar in one, shouldn't be there in the first place, and would have a hard time explaining just what they were doing when they found the apostate. Anders was lucky that he was jovial and could heal well. If he was going to get caught anyway, he might as well have some fun on the house beforehand.<p>

Tevinter wasn't the rest of Thedas, though, and Anders wasn't sure how long this safe haven would last. He also had only guards looking him. But he had a place for the rest of the night, and a chance to get cleaned up and healed before he had to move on and find a way out of the city.

He wiped his face down with a wet cloth and looked at himself in the cracked and dingy mirror. Maker above, he looked like shit. The combination of stress and magebane slowly poisoning his system, had left their mark. He had lost weight, and his eyes appeared sunken. At least he had finally gotten rid of that blasted beard. The thing had blighted itched. No wonder dwarves were so cranky all the time.

He had finagled clothes out of the madam and slipped into a plain brown pair of worn leggings. He winced at the pull of the wound on his side. He had fixed his nose first, setting the break and knitting the bone together. The bruises that had begun to form around his eyes were gone. He didn't have full use of his magic back, so he had decided that healing his face was more imperative than his side.

He was regretting that now.

He had given the madam his expensive robes, telling her that she could sell them if she wished. Even blood stained, it could be torn apart at the seams and still salvaged. She hadn't given her name, and hadn't asked for Anders'. Both of them knew without saying that it was safer that way. A mage didn't suddenly show up at the back of a brothel, bloody and asking for a place to stay in exchange for services, unless there was a story behind it. She didn't care.

She gave Anders a room, new clothes, and the razor and soap. He was expected to be able to heal like he'd promised in the morning. He had a feeling that if his magic hadn't returned by then, she was going to have the guards come by and take him off her hands.

For a reward of course, she was a good citizen of the Imperium.

Anders wrung out the cloth and dabbed at his wound in an attempt to clean it. He gritted his teeth at the pain. He hoped that the magebane would be finally out of his system by morning, if it wasn't, he was going to have to make another hasty escape. Once it was as clean as he could make it, he rinsed out the cloth again and pressed it to the wound. He climbed into the bed, eschewing the tunic, but not his leggings and boots. If he had to make a run for it, it was better to do it shirtless than naked. He couldn't risk his wound opening in the night and staining the tunic. Not that anyone would notice. Who knows what was on that thing.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, exhaustion swamped him. His last thought before he fell asleep, was that he hoped Fenris had not gotten the Eluvian to work, and that he was still at Weisshaupt.

* * *

><p>"You were very naughty, Anders."<p>

Anders turned in place, taking in the massive and ornate room. "Really, Feynriel? You can dream up anything and you decide to have us in a throne room?"

Feynriel smiled from his place on the golden throne. "I like it here. The chair is comfy. What would you prefer instead? A brothel?"

"Oh, come off it. You obviously know where I am. Let me guess, guards are coming to get me as we speak." Oh, fuck. Anders had to wake up. He had to get out of the building. Anders stumbled backwards and sat down hard in a chair that appeared abruptly behind him. It was an exact match for the throne Feynriel sat in. "All right, it is comfortable. I'll give you that."

Laughing, Feynriel sank deeper into his seat. "No guards. Something else is coming for you. Gaius has informed the Divine of your escape, and his templars seek you as we speak. I'm to keep you busy and asleep until they arrive."

Anders knew he wasn't really breathing, only dreaming, but the air seized in his lungs all the same. "Let me wake up. Please. I have to get out of the city."

The look Feynriel gave him was one of pity. "I can't. You came at a bad time. My master wants to become Archon, and he thinks he can use you to do it. I'm not going to allow his plans to fall apart. I've done enough for you. If it's any conciliation, the Divine does not want you on the throne any more than Gaius does. We're already fighting a war on one side with the qunari, a war with the Anderfels will cripple us."

Anders shot to his feet. "I saved you! Marian and I both. We fought for you when the Keeper wanted you to be made Tranquil. When _you_ wanted to be Tranquil. You were a good kid that just needed a chance, if there is anything of him still in you then let me wake up."

"You're acting like I'm doing something evil." Feynriel became incredulous. "Did you know Fenris and others are in the city? I saw a dream of their passage from a slave that works in an inn. "Believe it or not, the Divine's intervention might be your only way of surviving. The Archon cannot touch you if you are in the Divine's hands."

Fenris had done it. He had made the Eluvian work. Anders had to get out of the Fade and find him, before it was too late. His elation was short lived. "I don't understand. Why does the Black Divine want me?"

"Not you, but your lover. Your escape has changed Gaius' plans, and he intends to use the embarrassment of your escape to his advantage. The Black Divine wants Fenris, Gaius wants you out of the Archon's reach. It is a simple arrangement."

"No! It's not simple. You're playing with lives, Feynriel. Maker, what has this place done to you?"

Feynriel shook his head slowly. "You still don't get it. Archon Therion is insane."

"Because no Archon was ever insane," Anders muttered.

Feynriel continued on as if he had not heard him. "He will rip Tevinter apart. If he is not overthrown, then there is no hope for us, or the rest of Thedas. Danarius was mad for creating Fenris, and Therion is mad for continuing what he started. The Divine has no wish to see the Imperium play the villain again and bring down the Maker's wrath. The Imperial Chantry might be your only hope of survival, your lover's only hope of survival. Go with the templars."

Anders threw back his head and laughed. "And _you_ still don't get it. I have never gone anywhere with a templar and had it end well." If all towers were the same, then all templars were the same, even in the mage loving Imperium.

Sighing, Feynriel waved a hand. The throne room began to dissolve, crumbling down from the roof and dissipating in the air. "Believe it or not, I am trying to help you. I'm sorry you can't see that."

* * *

><p>As they approached the brothel that Tatius had said Anders was in, Fenris picked up his pace until he was almost running. Just one more street, one more street and he would have his Anders back. One more street and they could flee Minrathous through the Eluvian. He could hear the others pounding down the street behind him. No one tried to stop him or get him to slow down, they knew better than that.<p>

Just as he was about to round a corner, a scream ripped through the air. It was full of rage, and it sounded just like—

"Get your hands off of me! Ask Plinius what I did to him the last time someone tried to catch me."

Time seemed to slow down as Fenris turned the corner and the brothel came into view. There standing amidst a large group of templars, was Anders. His hair was different—shorter—and fell in a tangle just below his jaw. He was shirtless, and Fenris could see his ribs standing out starkly. His body looked like how it had when they had first been together those many years ago. Underfed from the constant demands of his clinic and Justice, Fenris had worked hard to make sure that Anders took better care of himself after they had reached the Vigil. But he still had that same cocky smile on his face, that same look in his eyes when he was determined that nothing was going to stop him.

Fenris didn't see the templars surrounding his lover. He didn't hear the cries of his companions to stop. All he saw was Anders, his Anders. And he was alive. Fenris rushed towards the mage. "Anders!"

Anders jerked his head up and his eyes grew wide with shock. His mouth worked a few times before he could speak. "Love," he whispered. The templars nearest to him used the opportunity to grab him. One of them jerked his arms behind him, and manacled his wrists together. Anders began to writhe, struggling against the templars. Arms went around his chest and waist, holding him back as templars stepped in front of him, their swords drawn. "Fenris, run!"

Lips curling into a snarl, Fenris' brands flashed to life. "Don't ever tell me to run, mage." With a cry he plunged right in the midst of the templars, faster than they could see him. His sword was still strapped to his back, and he used his bare hands to tear through them. He ripped the heart out of one, while another he crushed their skull, reaching through their helmet. A sword swiped at his right arm, but he felt no pain—only rage. No one was taking Anders from him again.

No one.

All around him, battle ensued as the others joined the fray. Fenris pushed forward, ignoring all else except meeting his goal. By the time he reached Anders, his arms were soaked passed the elbow in blood. It dripped off the clawed tips of his gauntlets, splattering to the cobblestone street. He was a glowing demon of vengeance, and the full force of his gaze was on the templar that held Anders in his arms. He tilted his head to the side, like a cat considering if it should play with a mouse, or just eat it.

"Let him go and your death will be quick." His chest rose and fell, the breath seesawing in and out of his mouth. "Now…" Fenris' voice was deathly quiet, as if he knew that he didn't need to shout to make his point.

The templar whimpered, and Fenris sneered at the sound. He abruptly let Anders go and took a frightened step back. "Please… Don't kill me. We were only—"

"I don't care," Fenris said as he rushed forward and plunged his hand into the templar's chest. He jerked his arm back, tearing out the man's heart. He dropped it negligently to the ground.

"Love…"

Fenris whirled around and was on Anders in an instant. He tunneled his fingers through Anders' hair and brought his mouth down for a kiss, unmindful of the blood and gore he was smearing on his lover. Their mouths met and moved over each other, saying all the things they needed to without words.

_I missed you._

_Are you all right?_

_I'm fine._

_I love you._

_I love you._

On and on the kiss went. It was filled with fierce desperation, love and lust. The sounds of battle died down, but Fenris was oblivious to it. He felt wetness on his face and pulled back just far enough to see the tears in Anders' eyes. "Don't cry," Fenris whispered.

Anders cleared his throat and blinked rapidly. "I'll stop when you do."

"I am not crying," Fenris insisted.

Touching their foreheads together, Anders smiled. "Sure you aren't, love. Now, could you please get me out of these manacles and get me home? You're right, Tevinter is awful."

His body jerked to the side when Merrill latched onto him. "Anders! I missed you. What were you doing at a brothel? Christopher said it was so you could hide and cure people, but I can't figure out why you would do that at a brothel. Don't people go to a clinic? Ew, Fenris got you all bloody." She moved away from him.

Zevran moved behind Anders to work on the lock to his manacles. "I don't think he minds the blood so much, yes?"

"Not listening!" shouted Carver. "Can we hurry up, please? I don't want to be here when they discover the dead templars with the holes in their chests."

"But it is so enlightening."

Everyone froze and turned to the sound of the voice. Gaius stood at the end of the street, Feynriel next him. Behind him were a dozen mages and guards. "It is fortunate that all of you are here together. It will save me a lot of time." Behind him, the mages began chanting.

"Carver," Aedan cried. "Stop them!" But before Carver could cast a single smite, the full force of the spell slammed into them.

"I thought it was poetic to have them put all of you to sleep, considering what Anders did to Plinius."

As the heavy blanket of sleep descended on him, Fenris had the presence of mind to grab Anders and take the brunt of the mage's fall. He crumpled to the ground, Anders on top of him.

"I will… kill… all of… you," Fenris mumbled as his eyes slid shut.

"I don't doubt that you will try," Gaius said. His voice seemed distant as Fenris slipped into the darkness.


	69. Chapter 69

Thank you for the awesome reviews!

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><p>The Argent Spire in Minrathous could be seen from almost anywhere in the city. It was the home of the Divine of the Imperial Chantry, the Divine Cato. All over Thedas, he was known as the Black Divine, the antitheses of the White Divine in Orlais. He was also a mage, like all Black Divines since the schism between Tevinter and the Orlesian Chantry. Four Exalted Marches were called over the centuries against Minrathous, but none could ever take the city. Minrathous was steeped in old magic, and the Juggernauts that ringed the city walls made it almost impregnable.<p>

Fenris had always hated how Andraste was seen as the savior of slaves. She had done nothing for the slaves, and the Orlesian Chantry was filled with nothing but hypocrites. What had she done, really? Tevinter still stood. They had lost their grip on most of Thedas, but the slave trade still thrived to this day. Tevinter slavers made constant forays into the rest of Thedas, yet nothing was ever done about it. Fenris knew why that was. Most of the people taken were elves, mainly from the city. No one cared about their plight. They were segregated in every city, and those that thought to flee to the dalish to a better life, found only derision. The dalish did not want them. The humans did not want them unless they were servants or whores. Elves held no office. They had no say in how the city that they contributed to was run. No one cared if they were taken to Tevinter and sold.

He had hated going to the alienage in Kirkwall. It was living proof that freedom from the magisters was barely any freedom at all. His sister had been right on that account. Merrill always spoke to Fenris as if he was one of the dalish, as if because they shared the same features that he should feel some sort of kinship with her.

Not with the dalish. Never with them.

They referred to themselves as the last of the elvhen, and ignored the plight of those in the city and all over Tevinter. Fenris held them in distain. They were the same level of hypocrite as the Chantry. They too pretended that elves were not being taken from the cities to be enslaved in Tevinter

Sebastian Vael had seen Fenris as some sort of project, questioning his belief in the Maker and the good he had brought to Fenris' life. Fenris had a firm stance that the Maker had done nothing for him, and it had been Fenris himself that had brought him any good fortune he'd ever had.

It wasn't that he didn't believe. He just felt that the elven slaves were forgotten by the Maker the same way they were forgotten by the rest of Thedas.

The Imperial Chantry taught that Andraste was just a woman, not the Maker's bride. It had been the cause of the break between the Orlesian Chantry and the one in Tevinter. The Black Divine was held up as the worst in heresy, their existence the cause of several Exalted Marches. He or she was seen as what was wrong in Tevinter. A magister who had risen up high enough to be counted as the mouth piece of the Maker himself.

Cato had been the Divine for the Imperial Chantry for over thirty years. He was beloved in all of Tevinter. He was a mage that commanded the templars of Tevinter, and could be seen as more powerful than any Archon. On his word, any magister could be dragged in chains down the streets of Minrathous. The senate stopped and listened when he spoke, and his favor was curried by all.

And Fenris was about to meet him.

If there had been anyone in Tevinter that Danarius had feared, it was Cato. While he flaunted his deadly, lyrium infused slave, he had also been very careful. Fenris wondered just when Danarius had told others what it was he had done to Fenris and why. If the line between what was acceptable for a mage to do or not was in a different place in Tevinter than the rest of Thedas, then it was men like Cato that said where the line was.

Fenris had awakened in a rage. He had paced the well-appointed room he and the others had been placed in and eyed the door. To their surprise, none of them had been disarmed. On the contrary, all of their wounds had been healed and the blood cleaned from their skin and armor. It was downright unnerving. Not only had someone touched him without his permission, he hadn't even been awake for the violation. Not having control over what happened to his own body was one of his greatest fears. He had endured enough of that with Danarius to last several lifetimes.

Leaving them armed hadn't helped with his anger and wariness either. It meant that they did not fear them, and that letting them have their weapons and armor was for their own comfort, not the Divine's. They were in the Argent Spire, a twisted tower of old Tevinter that outdated the Archon's Tower and half of Minrathous. If the Black Divine did not fear an Exalted March, then he most certainly did not fear a few wardens, a templar, and an ex-Crow.

If anything stated more clearly what kind of danger they were in, Fenris did not know of it.

By the time the templars came for them, Fenris had worked himself up in a fine rage. He had lunged forward as soon as the door opened, his sword drawn back for a deadly strike and his body enveloped in the glow of his markings. The others had shouted behind him, but he had paid them no heed. In the end it hadn't mattered. The templars and mages that had swarmed into the room had him and the others frozen in place, Fenris with his face twisted in anger. It didn't matter what Fenris or the others wanted. They were to see the Divine.

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><p>A group of templars ringed them as they walked through the corridors of the Argent Spire. One could see old Tevinter in every pillar, and in every statue. There were images of the Black City, and the Golden City everywhere. Unlike most of the towers in Minrathous, this one was not carved from a great block of marble, but built from smooth stone. Fenris didn't know what it was, and he was sure he wouldn't like the answer if he were to ask.<p>

Anders didn't know what to expect when he saw the Black Divine, but the man in front of them wasn't it. The light from the magically lit chandelier above them shined off his hairless scalp. He had no eyebrows or facial hair either, and it made him look utterly eerie. The only sign of his age were the deep wrinkles lining his face, and his heavily veined hands. As opposed to the more ornate robes of the magisters that Anders had seen so far, the Divine's were of plain, undyed linen. His blue eyes were so pale they were almost white, and they seemed to look right through each of them as they entered the sparse room.

The room acted as a Chantry, Anders could tell that much. But there were no signs of Andraste anywhere. A grand altar with hundreds of candles lining the floor in front of it, stood behind Cato. The red wax that dripped and pooled from the candles made the altar appear as if it was sitting in a pool of blood.

Anders didn't much care for that thought.

In a twisted way, Anders was a bit disappointed in the Black Divine. Stories were told of the Black Divine in the Circle. He was used to scare children into behaving, of what could happen if you turned from the Maker and didn't eat all of your peas. The Black Divine sat in Minrathous like a spider, waiting for good little Andrastans to come along so he could gobble them up.

Really, the man didn't even have the decency to shoot flames from his eyes to sear the souls of the unfaithful.

Anders squeezed Fenris' fingers. Since they had awakened, neither of them had been able to stop touching the other for long. Anders kept sneaking looks at him to see if he was real. And Maker help him, what had Fenris done to his hair? It was odd to see Fenris with dark hair in the waking world. He understood why the elf had done it, but it looked off. Maybe it was because Anders was so used to his white locks that it seemed so strange. Zevran had reassured him that it would wash out, and Anders was holding him to that.

Not that it had done them any good.

Templars filled the room and lined every wall. They became nameless, faceless statues that would come to life the moment Cato gave the word, or if they thought the Divine was threatened. Even armed as the wardens were, they stood no chance against the might of the Imperial Chantry. Make it out of the room? Yes. Make it all the way out of the spire? That wasn't going to happen.

Not that Fenris or Aedan wouldn't try if it came to it.

_Oh, fuck me_, Anders thought. _Aedan would get off on the attempt._

Anders had been dressed in a plain set of robes while he slept, and he was actually grateful for it. How embarrassing would it be if he met the Black Divine shirtless?

His magic had returned to him—thank the Maker. Only time would tell if there would be any permanent effects from the magebane. It would mostly manifest itself into stomach issues, the lining eroded from a month of ingestion.

No one said a word as the Divine looked at each one of them in turn. The hairlessness aside, he looked like a kindly old grandfather. When he spoke it reminded Anders of warm fireplaces and a cozy night spent listening to tales. Or at least, that's how he had always thought a grandfather should be. His experience of old men, were crotchety mages from the Circle that liked to swat the children on their backsides with their staffs if they weren't paying attention during lessons.

Anders had taken pride in not being able to sit down during the dinner meals because he had goofed off too much during his lessons. He glanced at Fenris. Some things never changed.

"I am sorry we had to meet this way," Cato began. "I hope that there will be no strife between us because of it."

Aedan, Carver and Fenris all snorted in derision at the same time. Anders blinked. This was not going to end well.

"Say your piece and then we will be on our way," Aedan said. He crossed his arms and tilted his chin up. "Do you know who I am?"

Anders squeezed his eyes shut. _Be quiet, Aedan_, he pleaded silently. But Aedan was Aedan and now he was pissed off. Combine that with Carver and Fenris, and it was a dwarven powder keg just waiting for the smallest spark to ignite.

Thankfully, the Divine seemed to sense this. "I know who you are Aedan Cousland, First Warden of the Grey. The Imperial Chantry has no wish to anger the Grey Wardens."

"Too late," Aedan replied. "The Archon took one of mine and we came to retrieve him. Why is the Imperial Chantry hindering our departure?"

Okay, Anders hadn't expected that. Maybe Aedan had learned some diplomacy since he became First Warden.

"Say what you must, and then we're leaving. Unless you want to see what it looks like when a group of wardens, use to fighting darkspawn in some of the worst parts of the Deep Roads, are let loose against men."

Then again, maybe he hadn't.

Cato only smiled. "I see the rumors about you were not exaggerated. Good, you will need your fierceness and that of your wardens."

Aedan raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? It's not like you don't know where Weisshaupt is. If you needed warden aid…"

"That may have been so, but things are coming to a head too quickly and there was no time. Therion moved before Gaius could stop him in capturing your warden. There was little I could do."

"Don't tell spread your lies," Fenris snapped. "You are the Divine of Tevinter. All magisters listen when you speak."

Cato turned his eyes on Fenris. "You are greatly mistaken. I might have power in Tevinter, but they do not listen when I speak. They listen when I threaten, which I rarely do. I am not the White Divine. I do not seek to rule through threats of Exalted Marches if the senate does not toe the line. I have been the Divine for longer than you have been alive, I'll wager. I did not get to my position by being foolish. The current unrest in the senate and the schemes of Gaius and the Archon, mean nothing in the face of what I must ask you to do."

Now it was Fenris' turn to squeeze Anders' hand. "What do you wish of us?"

"I wish for you to right a terrible wrong. One of several that has plagued me since they became known to me. Tevinter cannot continue as it has been. We are insular from the rest of Thedas. Only the dwarves freely trade with us. We traffic in slaves, and blood magic runs rampant in the most noble of houses. We will destroy ourselves before the qunari can. I wish to save those that I can before I die."

Slowly, Aedan uncrossed his arms. "What are you proposing?"

Cato clasped his hands behind his back and slowly paced the room. "What do you know of what Danarius did to your warden?"

"I am right here," Fenris snapped.

_Don't piss off the Black Divine, love_, Anders thought. He was practically trying to crush Fenris' fingers in his own in warning, Fenris' gauntlet cutting into his skin. When did he become the silent, practical one?

When he had to survive being held in a tower by the blighted Archon of Tevinter.

"My apologies." Cato paused and gave Fenris a small incline of his head. "I direct my question to you."

"I know he thought he could get to the Black City," Fenris said with gritted teeth. "I know that he was insane, and the ritual he enacted was so painful that it wiped everything from my memories from before that time. I know I would rather die than be used in that fashion."

"The ritual you speak of was one discovered in this very spire. In fact, I was the one that directed Danarius to it, more fool I."

Anders almost had his arm wrenched out of his socket when Fenris lunged forward. "You! You gave him the means to do this to me!" As one, the templars withdrew their swords and took a single step forward. The sound of that much plate moving at once was almost deafening, and sent chills down Anders' spine. Ander held on tightly to Fenris, pulling him back.

Cato waved a hand and the templars moved back to their positions against the walls. "I didn't know what he would do. If I had, he never would have gained the knowledge he needed. I have no wish for anyone to return to the Black City."

"Is that really true?" Carver asked. "I've seen what the Golden City did to the ancient magisters. It twisted and corrupted them. "

Cato looked at Carver, taking in his unadorned armor and the angry set of his jaw. "Tell me, young templar, does your Chantry still make their templars become lyrium addicts? I would have thought they would have long stopped using the practice."

Carver looked taken aback. "How—"

"Gaius was kind enough to lend his apprentice to me while you slept. I needed to know who I was going to be dealing with."

Like Fenris, Carver lunged forward and was only held back by a dismayed Merrill and Christopher. This time, the templars did not even so much as twitch.

"Are we going to get to the point any time soon?" Aedan asked. "You hold us against our wills, you violate our minds while we sleep, and now you won't get to the fucking point. I'm beginning to think that whatever you want from us, we won't be obliging you."

Cato clapped his hands and laughed. "Oh, that is refreshing. The people of Minrathous only speak in half-truths and riddles. It has been a long time since I talked with a plain spoken man."

This wasn't happening right? Feynriel was only messing with Anders and he was dreaming in the Fade. Aedan did not just threaten the Black Divine, and the man only laughed and seemed pleased.

"I will get to the point then. When the ancient magisters first stepped into the Golden City, they did so by sacrificing hundreds of slaves and using two thirds of the city's lyrium supply. Through trial and error they were eventually able to succeed in creating one such as your warden. But going to the Golden City was not their original intent, only a byproduct of their true purpose."

Anders and Fenris shared a look. The mage could read what Fenris was feeling, even without words.

_What more is there? What did he do to me?_

To anyone else, Fenris seemed impassive. But Anders could feel the fear in the tension of Fenris' body. Anders mouthed a quick 'I love you', before glancing back to Cato.

"Tell me, do you know what an Eluvian is?" Cato asked.

Behind Anders, Merrill gasped. He looked back to see her cover her mouth with her fingers, and her eyes widen in horror. "No," she whispered.

Cato acted as if he did not hear her. "It is a tool of the elvhen. They seem like mirrors that that do not reflect, but they are so much more. The magisters wanted to use them as the elvhen once did, as a way to communicate over long distances, and even to travel. No elvhen would give up the secrets of the mirrors, but that did not stop the magisters. They used an ancient elvhen rite, twisting and perverting it for their own gain. In doing so, they discovered that they could tear through the Veil itself and step bodily into the Fade. In time, they used a ritual like the one to get inside the Golden City against the elvhen."

Merrill began to sob. Christopher put his arms around her, while Carver moved closer to the elf.

"They ripped through the Veil again, creating a tear so large, that the earth itself collapsed from the power. The elvhen city of Arlathan was swallowed by the earth and lost."

"No!" Merrill cried. "You don't know what you're talking about. The city might have been lost, but the elvhen still live on. They escaped the destruction, taking their knowledge and leaving this world."

"The dalish have been telling this tale for centuries," Zevran said softly. "Only some of your version is new."

"But don't the dalish say that they took with them dragons and demons?" Cato asked. "Yet dragons have been appearing once more in this world. Demons are the way for your Chantry to enslave mages. I believe the elvhen are not gone, not completely."

"You want Fenris to find the elvhen," Anders said incredulously. "That's insane, why?" Oh, well there went keeping his mouth shut.

"It was their rite-twisted as it was-that allowed the magisters to enter the Golden City. The magisters were cursed, creating the first darkspawn. For too long Tevinter has stood for everything evil in Thedas, and we have done nothing to discourage that. We are beset by the qunari, and now Therion wishes to start a war with the Anderfels. No one would come to our aid. No one would believe us if we said it was the doing of one mad Archon. We are Tevinter, and we will always be thought of as liars. Finding a way into the city of Arlathan, might bring about a way to end the Blights. It was their magic that started it. It might be their magic that ends it. If that could be accomplished, then maybe Tevinter could begin to change in the eyes of the rest of Thedas."

_Not likely_, Anders thought. Tevinter was also known for their slavers and blood mages. He glanced over his shoulder at Aedan. Fuck, Aedan seemed interested now. Aedan had spent the better part of over a decade trying to find a way to end the Blights. And now here was a man telling him there might be an answer.

Cato looked at Fenris. "It was no coincidence that you were chosen. Danarius needed an elf, one with a strong will. The games he arranged were meant to weed out those that could not handle the ritual." He pointed at Merrill. "It is also no coincidence that the lyrium under your skin could be at first taken for ornate, dalish tattoos. Danarius did not care about the Eluvians, just as the magisters forgot their original purpose."

"I once knew someone who thought they could end the Blights," Aedan began slowly. "He did not know what he was dealing with, and it caused untold harm. What makes you think that this will be different?"

Cato gave Aedan a self-satisfied grin. "Because I have an Eluvian, and I believe that there still might be some located in the sunken city. I cannot bring it to life, but I would be willing to bet your warden can. I'm asking you, Aedan Cousland, First Warden of the Grey, of those that are sworn to combat the Blight above all else. I am formally requesting for aid on behalf of Tevinter. I am asking on behalf of every citizen of the Imperium, of every slave and every magister."

In reply, Aedan threw back his head and laughed.


	70. Chapter 70

Thank you so much for the encouragement! I am glad to know that there are still people that are loving this behemoth.

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><p>Aedan and Fenris had been arguing for an hour, and neither one were backing down anytime soon. They were all gathered in the room Aedan and Zevran had been given, the remnants of their meal scattered on a table.<p>

"I refuse," Fenris snarled. "We have a way out of here. Let us take it and be done with this place."

"We might have a way to stop the Blights, Fenris. As wardens, it's our duty to investigate this." Aedan had his arms crossed and his jaw was set in stubborn lines. They both had been around and around the same arguments until Anders was about to scream to get them to stop.

"Cato as insane as Therion is," Fenris shot back. "Let Minrathous tear itself apart, we are under no obligation to save them."

"Yes, we are," Aedan pointed out. "There might not be a warden presence in Tevinter, but if it concerns the Blights and darkspawn, then we are under oath and obligation to lend aid."

"Because that has worked so wonderfully in the past." Fenris' hand slashed in the air. "Your obsession with ending the Blights will get all of us killed. I will have no part of it."

Anders sucked in a breath. _Don't go there, love. Please don't go there._

"What's that supposed to mean," Aedan asked.

"Exactly what you think." Fenris ticked off a finger at a time as he went down the list. "You had a chance to kill the Architect, and yet you did not. Instead, you let him live, and do Maker only knows what in the Deep Roads, with minimal to no interference from you. A creature that admitted he started the last Blight through his experiments. He is dangerous, and all signs point to him having been one of the magisters that entered the Golden City. Corypheus seemed to know him. Yet even after all that, you let him live a second time. He took my sister from me. He took Velanna's sister from her, yet this darkspawn still lives. Why? Because Aedan Cousland knows best. Because his word is law and he will find a way to end the Blights, no matter who is hurt in the process."

The room went deathly quiet. Anders inched his way towards Fenris, he didn't like the way the First Warden and the elf were eyeing each other. He didn't like this idea any better than Fenris. But if there was a way, however small, to stop the Blights, they had to find out. Aedan was right about that much. But he had never seen Fenris and Aedan argue the way they were now. Over the years, the two of them could go at it at the drop of a pin, but this was different.

"You go too far, my friend," Zevran said quietly.

"Do I?" Fenris turned on the assassin. "Or maybe it was time someone told him the truth."

"Enough," Aedan whispered. Then louder, "Enough!" he slammed a fist onto the table, the dishes clattering against each other. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Fenris. No idea. You were not in Ferelden during the Blight. You didn't see the things I did, the things Zevran did. It was chaos, everyone turning on each other as they fought to survive. You didn't see the horror that was Ostagar. If I can stop it from happening again, then I will. And to the Void with the consequences."

"I saw it," Carver said. He was sprawled out in a chair and he straightened when everyone looked at him. "I was at Ostagar. It was… I still have nightmares about it."

Anders was taken aback. He hadn't known that about Carver. All he had been told was that the Hawkes had fled Lothering when the horde had come up from the south, after laying waste to the army at Ostagar. He hadn't known that Carver had been there. Although it did make sense, going to war seemed like something Carver would have done, and gladly.

Carver looked at Fenris. "If there's a chance we can stop something like that from happening again, then it's our duty to go. Don't tell me you would turn your back on that. I thought better of you, Fenris."

"Don't," Fenris said. "Don't try and make me feel guilty for doing what I think is right."

"I can't make you feel anything, Fenris. I know that better than anyone."

Once more the room went silent. This was going somewhere altogether too deep. Anders opened his mouth to intervene, when Merrill did it for him. "If there's a chance that we can find even a fraction of the elvhen's knowledge, we should take it. They understood the world in ways we can never comprehend."

"So says the blood mage," Fenris said in dismissal.

"That's not fair, Fenris. I haven't touched blood magic in years. You know that. Don't use my past bad actions as an excuse to dismiss the things I have to say."

_Well now_, Anders thought. _That was unexpected._ He had never heard Merrill be so blunt with Fenris before. He felt horrible for his lover. Everyone was ganging up on him. But what was Anders supposed to do? Fenris was being stubborn for all the wrong reasons. If there was nothing to be found through the Eluvian, then they could always turn right around and leave, going back to Weisshaupt.

"I…" Fenris blinked and looked away. "I apologize then. I just can't help but think this is all a little too neat-the Eluvian at Weisshaupt, me bringing Merrill, and the ability of my markings to use the mirrors. Now our meeting with Cato…" He tapped his fingers against his hip. "Something isn't right. The taint of Flemeth's influence is everywhere. I can't escape the feeling that this is exactly what the witch has wanted all along. If that is so, then why should we do it?"

"Why would you think that she has anything to do with this?" Christopher asked. He stood behind Merrill and had his hands on her shoulders. "That seems like quite a leap."

"Is it? I don't believe so. She appears in Aedan's life. She appears in Hawke's life. Now she has appeared in mine. She is maneuvering us like chess pieces. I don't know what her end game is, but I refuse to aid her in it any longer." He glanced at Aedan. "You say that this Morrigan went through an Eluvian. Where did she go?"

Aedan blinked. "I… I don't know. That's why I requested that the Eluvian Merrill had be sent to me. I was hoping to find out. Where ever Morrigan is, she has made sure she and the child are out of her mother's reach."

"Exactly." Fenris paused in his finger tapping. "There is something we're missing here. All of this is too convenient. If I had not brought Merrill with me, we would not have been able to fix the Eluvian. If I had not asked you about how you had survived the Archdemon, you would not have shown us that you possessed it. She wanted us here, all of us. I can't help but think it has to do with Cato's request."

"But how could she have known that we would have ended up here?" Christopher pointed out. "We're right back to where we started, with you refusing to open the Eluvian to anywhere else besides Weisshaupt."

"I don't know how she could have known that," Fenris snapped. "I don't know. But I can tell you that something is wrong. We should not be even considering doing this."

Anders had watched the exchange with growing trepidation. Fenris was more upset than Anders had seen him in a long time. He knew the cause, even if no one else wanted to see it. Fenris had learned long ago not to trust magic, or those that wielded it. After his time in the Archon's Tower, Anders couldn't blame him. The magisters spent their time vying for power, speaking in riddles and half-truths. Flemeth was no different, and Anders knew that if Fenris thought for even a moment that the witch was using him for her own gain, he would dig in his heels.

Anders was surprised she had talked him into the things she had so far.

But Fenris' patience was at an end. Anders walked over to his lover and slipped his arms around his waist from behind. He leaned down and whispered into the elf's ear, ignoring the way Fenris stiffened at the public display of affection—especially since he was angry.

"I know you hate being here, love. I know that you swore you would never step foot in Tevinter again, but don't think of it as helping the magisters, or Flemeth. We can't know her true intentions, just as we can't know Cato's. What we do know is that if there is even a single chance for us to stop the Blights, we have to take it. I know you. If another Blight breaks out in our lifetime, you will hate yourself for not preventing it from happening when you had the chance. Maybe Aedan is a reckless asshole at times," at this, Aedan scowled, "but he's trying to save lives. You aren't as selfish as you would like people to think you are. You have a good heart. It would destroy you if it turns out that Cato was right."

Fenris turned his head and glared at Anders. The mage gave him a crooked smile. "On the other hand, I really hate this place and want to go home. I just want to make sure you're refusing for the right reasons, like getting back home to Pounce. He's getting on in years, and I bet he misses us."

Fenris eyed Anders, and the mage knew the moment Fenris had given in. His shoulders relaxed and he even leaned back a little into Anders' arms. "Fine, I will take us, _if_ we can even find the place. We were lucky to even get to Minrathous, or did we all forget this already? I also believe that Aedan has forgotten something very important. We have a deadline to return Anders to Weisshaupt."

"What" Anders glanced up at Aedan. "What is he talking about?"

Aedan scratched the back of his head. "I might have… um… sent a missive to your brother informing him you had been taken, and that Tevinter was going to use you to make a power play."

"No…" Anders whispered. "You didn't. Please tell me you didn't do something so idiotic. Please tell me you didn't tell the King of the Anderfels that war might break out. You've been living there for three years. You _know_ what they're like. Did being first Warden make you lose your senses? Whatever happened to not getting involved in politics?"

"Medwin's rational. He won't do anything foolhardy," Aedan said. But whether he was trying to convince Anders or himself, the mage didn't know.

"Oh, yes he would. The Anders have long memories. They hate Tevinter, and you just gave them the excuse they needed. He won't be able to keep this from the barons, even if he wanted to. Having his own brother kidnapped and used against the crown, is a slight that no one in the Anderfels will allow him to let slide. It'll make him appear weak. He'll have no choice but to declare war." Anders couldn't believe this.

"He would have found out anyway," Zevran said. "All of Minrathous knows that you are here and that the games are to start later today. If what you say is true about your brother, then war was inevitable the second you had been taken."

Anders couldn't breathe. He hadn't thought about that. No one had ever been able to take Minrathous. It would be a slaughter on both sides. "We have to stop this," he said in horror.

"We have nine days at the least until the letter I sent reaches your brother." Aedan sat down heavily in his chair. He looked emotionally drained. "Nine days is a long time. We look for this place that Cato thinks we can find. If it turns out we are running out of time, then we leave and return to Weisshaupt. Agreed?"

Nine days might be a long time, but they were going to cut it close. The mage understood all that went unsaid. Anders couldn't return to Weisshaupt alone. Fenris would never allow the mage out of his sight, not so soon after getting him back. Without Fenris, they couldn't search for the lost city, and Cato did not expect them to leave straight for Weisshaupt, with no guarantee they would follow through on their search. If Aedan told Cato they would look for the elvhen, then they would look for them. Aedan's word was his bond.

But it might not be enough for Cato.

Anders blew out a slow breath. "You know, Cousland, you don't understand the concept of saying no to people that need help. You should really do something about that."

Aedan let out a short bark of laughter. "Zev has been telling me that for years."

"You should talk to Hawke about that," Merrill said. "She has the same problem. Whenever someone comes to her for aid, she rushes off. It scared us when she was pregnant."

Carver rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me. She had to be practically locked up in her house."

* * *

><p>The moment the door shut to their room, Fenris was on Anders. He pulled at the mage's robes, some of the seams tearing as he slipped it over Anders' head. He didn't want to think about magisters, witches, elves and kings. He didn't want to think about senators, Archons and war. He just wanted to feel Anders' skin under his hands, and taste him on his lips. He wanted the mage's cries to fill his ears as he begged Fenris for more.<p>

Anders was just as needy and yanked at Fenris' armor, pulling on the buckles. One by one, the pieces fell to the thick rug, landing on top of each other with loud crashes. Finally naked, neither said a word as their mouths met. Fenris was already hard, and their arousals were trapped between them as they pressed their bodies together. Fenris tangled his fingers in Anders' hair, bemoaning the fact that he had less of it to grab onto. Still, he was able to hold Ander's head in place as he devoured the mage's lips, his tongue sliding in deep, forcing Anders' mouth open wider and wider.

When the kiss finally ended, they stood staring at each other, their chests rising and falling as they each tried to catch their breath. Fenris didn't have to urge Anders much as he pushed down on his head, using his grip on his hair to steer him to his knees. The mage went eagerly, nuzzling Fenris' hairless crotch with his nose. He flicked his eyes up and ran his tongue over his teeth. His fingers gently caressed up the back of Fenris' legs, tracing the swirling path of his brands. With a sly grin, Anders let the smallest amount of magic escape. The magic traveled over Fenris' body, setting nerve endings alight. He groaned and rolled his hips, rubbing the tip of his cock over Ander's lips.

"Take me in your mouth," Fenris growled. He didn't care where they were, or that they were going to be leaving in a few hours to Maker knows where. All that mattered right now was this moment with Anders, and having him in a way that-in his darkest thoughts-he had wondered if he would ever have again.

Anders obediently opened his mouth, but he didn't move, letting Fenris take the lead. The elf teased himself and Anders by slipping the tip of his cock through his welcoming lips, and pulling back out again. Each time he pulled out, Anders swiped his tongue over it, darting into the slit at the tip and collecting the pre-cum that oozed out. Fenris didn't know how long they did this, but it felt so good, this anticipation. He had thought that he would fuck Anders and give them both the quick release they needed after being apart for so long. But now that he was with him, Fenris wanted to draw it out until they were both mindless.

Sliding his hands so they were on either side of Anders' head, Fenris poked his cock deeper into the mage's mouth. He rubbed his cock on the inside of Anders' cheek, and he could feel it where his palm cradled Anders' face. Eventually, his body's needs took over, and he tilted Ander's head back. "You're going to take the whole thing down," Fenris told him, his voice raspy. Anders' heated eyes were all the assent Fenris needed. He slipped his cock further down Anders' throat, until his sac rested against the mage's chin. He could feel Ander's throat rippling down his shaft, and he moaned his appreciation.

"I'm going to fuck that wonderfully talented mouth of yours." Fenris pulled back slightly to give Anders the chance to breathe before pushing all the way back in. "You're going to take it all, aren't you? You're going to take it all and love every second of it, just like the good little cocksucker you are." The degrading words tumbled out of Fenris' mouth as he began to pump his cock in and out between Anders' lips. "Oh fuck, you're so good at this. I can't decide what I love better, your ass or your mouth. I bet your ass is so tight right now. It's missed having a cock reaming it out, hasn't it Anders? Did you fuck yourself with your fingers while you were gone? Did you wish it was my cock inside you? How many fingers did it take Anders? How many did you need to use to satisfy your craving for my cock?"

Anders could do nothing but take it, and moaned around Fenris' shaft. The mage's pupils were dilated wide, and Fenris could see his hips rocking, his cock bobbing uselessly in the air. The way Anders was kneeling, he was pushing his perineum against the heel of one of his feet that was tucked under him.

Fenris' movements sped up as he rutted into Anders' mouth. He could feel his balls drawing up tight, and his shaft became impossibly hard. But still the words came. "I missed you, mage. I missed your fucking smile, and your warm laughter. I missed your smell, and the feel of waking up with you every morning. I missed…" Fenris choked on the words. They had long ago both abandoned any pretense of restraint—emotionally or sexually—when they were together like this. Everything was so much _more_ when they had no barriers, and no judgments. They fed each other's needs when they had no walls, Anders with his need for degradation, and Fenris with his need to break Anders down. Maybe to an outsider, it seemed vicious, but it was so much more than that. Some days they made love. While other days, they took each other down deep, holding nothing back.

When that happened, other things came out.

Fenris felt tears sting the backs of his eyes, and he blinked rapidly. "I love you," he breathed, pushing down Anders' throat one last time. His body tensed as he came, the muscles under Anders' hands clenching as he rode out his orgasm. Anders' throat and tongue moved over his shaft, his head bobbing as he milked Fenris dry. The elf's cock slipped free with a lewd pop, and Fenris dropped to his knees, gathering Anders in his arms. He buried his face in Anders' neck and began to sob, clutching his lover to him tightly.

"I was so afraid," Fenris admitted. "I was so afraid of what they might have done to you."

Anders turned his head and kissed the tip of Fenris' ear. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for coming for me. Part of me was afraid you would, but another part of me held onto hope. Remember, we have to have hope."

Embarrassed, Fenris pulled back and swiped at his face with the back of his hand. "I know, I won't ever forget that."

Anders lightly touched the hair tie with the braided hair around Fenris' wrist. "That was nice of Merrill." He said it to give Fenris a distraction, and time to calm himself down. The elf hated it when he cried in front of others. Anders had learned to not to draw attention to it if he could help it. It was enough that Fenris felt comfortable enough to even do it in Anders' presence in the first place.

Fenris cleared his throat a few times and captured Anders' lips in his own. He placed a hand on the mage's chest and tried to push him back to the floor, but Anders held firm. Instead, it was he that pushed Fenris back. He followed, bracing his hands on either side of Fenris' head. He straddled Fenris and rocked his hips back and forth. His cock brushed against Fenris' stomach, painting his skin with pre-cum. Each time he rocked back, the elf's cock rubbed against his entrance.

"Have I told you lately how much I love warden stamina?" Anders asked with a teasing note in his voice. "We could go on for days if we wanted."

Fenris turned his head, and nipped at the sensitive flesh on the inside of Anders' wrist. "Twelve hours is the most we have ever done. We were unable to continue after that, if I recall correctly."

Anders chuckled. "To be honest, it was a blur towards the end." He gasped when Fenris' hands gripped his hips and stilled his movements. The elf held him poised above his cock, and pinned him with his heated gaze. "In my bag there's some elfroot extract. Go get it."

Anders gave him a crooked grin. "Yes, ser."

Rolling his eyes, Fenris swatted Anders on the ass. The mage yelped and then laughed as he scrambled off of him and towards the bed. Fenris lay on the rug and stared up at the ceiling while he waited. What he wouldn't give for all of this to be over. He understood what they were trying to do, but— He squeezed his eyes shut. No. No thinking about what was happening outside of this room.

He opened his eyes when Anders came back and retook his position on top of Fenris. Fenris held out his hand and Anders poured a generous amount of the elfroot onto his fingers. Anders placed the bottle next to Fenris and leaned forward, capturing the elf's lips with his own. Fenris reached around Anders and circled his slick fingers around his asshole. The kiss deepened as Fenris pushed first one finger inside, then another.

Anders moaned into Fenris' mouth. "More," he mumbled.

"More?" Fenris asked. He slipped another inside. "You were unable to answer my question before, Anders. How many did you need?"

Anders panted against Fenris' lips. "All of them," he whispered. "As many as I could get inside me."

Pushing a fourth finger in, Fenris twisted his hand. "All of them? I bet you couldn't get them to go as deep as this."

The mage threw his head and groaned. "Yes," he hissed. "I need this."

"Are you sure?"

Anders whimpered and nodded his head. Fenris gave the mage a feral smile. "Then turn around and present that hungry ass to me."

Anders turned and gave Fenris' cock a quick lick, swiping his tongue up the shaft. Grabbing the bottle of elfroot, Fenris dumped almost the entire content on his hand, and let it drip down to coat his wrist. He pressed two fingers against Anders' entrance, building back up to where they had been before. Anders rocked back into the invading digits, fucking himself on Fenris' fingers.

"More," Anders demanded again, becoming mindless. Fenris shuddered in pleasure as he watched three and then four fingers disappear inside Anders. "Suck me again," Fenris demanded. Anders immediately obeyed, taking the elf's cock down to the root. Fenris' breath came out in harsh pants as he folded his fingers together in a point and tucked his thumb tightly against his palm. Carefully, and oh so slowly, he pushed his fingers into Anders past the first knuckles, then the second.

Anders cried out, ripping his mouth free from the cock in front of him. 'Do it," he begged. "I need more."

Fenris pushed his fingers in deeper, until the tip of his thumb joined the rest. He stopped, giving Anders time to grow accustomed to being so full. Carefully, he twisted his hand, rotating it and forcing Anders to feel every inch that was inside him already.

"Oh, shit," Anders muttered. "Oh, shit." His hand worked Fenris' cock, and the elf moaned.

Gently at first, Fenris pulled his fingers in and out of Anders' ass. Each time he pushed back in, he went a little bit deeper. Each time he went deeper, Anders become more incoherent. His hand on Fenris' cock began frantic and off rhythm.

"Breathe, Anders," Fenris warned. "Here comes the hardest part. I know you can take. You want it, don't you?"

"Maker, yes," Anders panted.

The area around the third row of knuckles opened up Anders almost impossibly wide. The mage was gulping in great breaths of air, his body frozen. Once Fenris had pushed past the ring of Anders' asshole, his body seemed to swallow his hand whole. He slipped his hand in deeper, until finally, he was inside the mage up to his wrist.

Anders dropped his head down to rest against Fenris' thigh. "Oh, Maker. Oh, shit. That's intense. Oh, fuck." He didn't begin screaming in pleasure until Fenris rotated his hand. Anders' hand moved once more over Fenris' cock, his fingers a tight ring around the elf's shaft. He turned his head and mouthed at Fenris' balls. "I'm going to come. Maker, I'm going to come."

"Me too," Fenris moaned. Seeing what he was doing to Anders, the mage's ass gaping wide and accepting everything Fenris was doing it… Maker, it was a heady sight. He rotated his hand again, rubbing against that spot deep inside Anders in a constant motion.

Anders cried out, and his ass clenched around Fenris' hand as he came. Cum jetted out of his cock, splattering over Fenris' stomach as the mage writhed. Gently, Fenris pulled his hand free, watching as his asshole twitched now that it was empty. Fenris rose up and placed a kiss to it, darting his tongue inside and tasting the elfroot that coated it.

He smacked Anders on the ass and pushed him over to the side, slipping out from under him. Anders lay boneless and splayed out on the rug as Fenris knelt next to him. Anders looked up at Fenris through half lidded eyes as the elf rubbed his cock over the mage's lips and his cheeks. The stubble that lined his jaw abraded the underside of Fenris' cock, and it twitched in anticipation. Fenris gripped his cock as Anders watched and moved his still slick hand up and down the shaft, his thumb rubbing over the tip on every upstroke.

He panted harshly through his nose, already close to climax. "You should have seen yourself," Fenris growled. "Your greedy ass took my whole hand. You still want my cock after that?" Fenris asked. "You still want it after you had something so large inside you?"

"I want it," Anders whispered. "I want it in any way you want to give it to me."

"How about my cum?"

"Yes," Anders hissed. "I want it. Give it to me."

"Take it," Fenris demanded. "Take it, you—" The rest of his sentence was cut off with a strangled shout. His cum poured out over his hand, shooting to land on Anders' face. The elf fell forward, bracing his free hand on the floor as he jiggled his cock over Anders' lips, wringing every last drop out.

Fenris moved and crushed their lips together, pushing his semen into Anders' mouth. His heart hammering in his chest, Fenris pulled back far enough to look into Anders' eyes. "I'm never going to let anyone take you from me again. Remember, not until you tell me that you don't want me anymore. Not until you tell me that you no longer love me."

"Never," Anders said harshly. "That will never happen."

* * *

><p>AN: I swear, these two keep escalating on me in the bedroom.


	71. Chapter 71

The door the wardens, Zevran and Carver were led through was flanked by several templars. They snapped to attention as Cato drew towards them. Anders shuddered. The Argent Spire was like the rest of Tevinter—it felt wrong. Logically, Anders knew that Cato was the Divine, and therefore, commanded respect from the templars. But he was also a mage, just like all of the powerful in Tevinter. Where it should have been a wet dream for Anders to see it, he had to wonder what the templars would do if Cato lost control.

The templars in Tevinter had the same charge as they did in the rest of Thedas. They were there to make sure that mages stayed in the lines of what was acceptable. Anders had already seen firsthand that it meant little in the grand scheme of things. Maybe more politically powerful magisters could get away with anything, but what happened to the ones that had no such protection? It hadn't stopped Danarius from doing what he had done to Fenris, and it hadn't seemed to stop the Archon from wanting to continue with Danarius' plans.

This was what Fenris had always been afraid of, this lack of accountability.

It showed a certain trust on Fenris' part that he no longer argued with Anders when the mage talked about his work with Wynne. In a convoluted way, coming to Minrathous just might help the mages in the rest of Thedas. What Anders had seen here, had given him an understanding of just why mages were feared. Cato was right when he said that for the other countries of Thedas, Tevinter would always represent everything that was wrong with mages. Anders had knowledge now to help him combat that fear.

The room they entered was small and contained a single item. The Eluvian that Cato possessed looked different from the one Merrill had. It sat on a raised dais, with three steps leading up to it. While the mirror itself was the same, its frame consisted of several dragons carved from black stone, coiling around the edge, their mouths open and snapping at each other. All except for one, who had no mouth at all.

The door shut behind them on silent hinges, and Anders didn't like the feeling of foreboding that crawled up his spine. All four corners of the room were lit with magical sconces that flared to life as soon as they entered. Maker, if there was one thing Anders was going to miss about Tevinter, it would have to be the negligent use of helpful magic that permeated Tevinter daily life. Imagine never having to light a fire or worry if you were wasting candles again? Of course, he didn't know how they were made. For all he knew it required the blood of virgins and drowning a sack of kittens.

"It's been here for centuries," Cato said. "There is so much lost history in the spire, things locked away and forgotten. I made it my mission when I became Divine to uncover as much of it as I could."

"Dangerous," Anders muttered.

Cato's teeth flashed in a smile. "Just so. After Danarius abused my hospitality, I closed off the spire to others. I used to think that knowledge was nothing if not shared. Now I no longer believe so."

Fenris walked up the stairs. He stopped in front of the Eluvian, and glanced back at Aedan. "Are you certain of this? As His grace just said, there are some things best not known."

"Never that." Cato shook his head. "Maybe not shared, but it is always better to know."

"And what has your knowledge gained you?" Fenris asked quietly. "Stopping the Blights will not change how Thedas views Tevinter. It is a country filled with blood mages and slaves. The Imperium only will ever seek to control and conquer. You can't change that, no matter what we find. The magisters are cursed. It is not the Maker's doing, but your own. The demons, the blood rituals, the debauchery, the extravagance, these are only a small portion of what is wrong. Every Archon in history that has ever tried to change the way things are done, has been put quickly in his place with a knife in his back. What makes you think you are different? Because you are the Divine? That will not save you."

Cato looked pained when he spoke. "Your bitterness and anger saddens me. It is not without cause, though. I do what I can with what time the Maker has allowed me to have. Change can happen in small ways, a ripple in the pond."

"But the pond is still a pond when the ripple has run its course."

The smile returned to Cato's face, but his eyes remained saddened. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to have met you in another time and place. The conversations we could have had."

Fenris turned back to the mirror, but Anders could see that the tips of his ears were red with embarrassment. "Why do people keep saying that to me?"

"Because you're much more intelligent than you give yourself credit for, love," Anders replied softly.

Fenris hunched his shoulders, and Anders smiled to see that the blush had traveled down to the back of the elf's neck. "What am I supposed to be looking for," Fenris said, firmly changing the subject.

"I'm not sure," Cato admitted. "The writings on Arlathan are sparse. Most are old tales and second hand accounts. What I do know, was that the city was sunk into the earth, and it stood where the Arlathan forest is today."

"Not exactly hidden is it?" Carver said. "If it's under where the forest of the same name is, then why not just dig for it?" Everyone looked at him and he shrugged. "What? I can't be the only thinking it."

"You're not," Aedan said slowly. He turned his eyes on Cato. "He has a point. Why do you need us? You would be better off asking the dwarves to look for you. I know Tevinter still retains good standing with them, even if no one else does."

Cato clasped his hands behind his back. "Time is one reason. No one knows exactly how deep the city is. It could take decades to find it if we dug from the top. I did once consider using the Deep Roads, but the only ones that know it as well—if not better—than the dwarves are the Grey Wardens. You are the first wardens I have ever met. Also, there is the chance that—"

Shouting resounded in the hall and everyone froze. Anders, Merrill and Christopher drew their staffs from their backs, while the others unsheathed their blades. The door was thrown open, and Gaius and Feynriel rushed inside.

Gaius' hands were pressed to his abdomen, and Anders could see blood seeping through his fingers, staining his robes "Your Grace," he panted. "All is lost, we are done for." He gasped and bent double in pain. Feynriel hurried over to him and Gaius waved him off.

"What's happened?" Cato asked. He gently pulled Gaius' hands away. Anders could see from where he was standing, that the magister had been stabbed, and not in a good place. It was a stomach wound, and Gaius would have a long, and painful death if it wasn't treated. Anders' fingers twitched on his staff.

"Therion… He canceled the games without any notice or reason given. The people rioted in the street. Not many, but enough to give him the distraction he needed." He tried to straighten, but only caused more blood to gush out. "His guards came through my house and many others, slaughtering… my family is dead, everyone… We barely made it out." He was able to straighten this time. "He is coming here next, with not only his men, but soldiers from his most loyal houses. Over half the senate is involved in this, you aren't safe here." Zevran was translating rapidly for Merrill, Aedan and Carver.

"He would dare?" Cato said. He looked on Gaius with astonishment. "How did you not know of this?" He directed his question towards Feynriel.

"I didn't…" Feynriel stammered. "I… I can only be in one dream at a time, and I was told to search the warden's dreams. I swear I did not know. I would never betray what we're trying to do. You know how important this is to me."

"Ask him what he's talking about," Aedan told Zevran.

Feynriel glanced at Aedan. "I speak your language. I… I'm the one that told His Grace about the Eluvian. When I dream, I am always alone unless I pull others in with me. Sometimes… Sometimes I'm not. I can hear whispers that aren't demons, speaking in a language that I don't understand. But one time," he swallowed heavily, "something came to me. She told me about the mirrors and that I needed to tell His Grace, that he would know what I was talking about. She also told me that there would be a day, when I was going to need to help someone that had helped me, and that I should do it. My master doesn't now, only His Grace does."

Anders thought that it was lucky that Gaius did not understand them. If what Feynriel was saying was true, then he had gone behind his master's back.

"What did she look like," Fenris hissed.

All of them knew what Feynriel was going to say before even he opened his mouth. "She was tall, with white hair twisted like a dragon's or a qunari's horns. She had golden eyes and a laugh that was—"

"Like the world was a joke and she was the only one in on it," Aedan finished.

"Yes!" Feynriel's eyes widened. "Do you know who she is? She wasn't human, but she wasn't a demon either. I told His Grace as instructed."

"You did well, Feynriel," Cato said in Arcanum. "I only wish that everything wasn't falling apart."

Gaius laughed, long and bitter. "Falling apart? It is madness! We need not worry about the Anderfels anymore, when we tear each other apart for them." He turned his gaze on the Eluvian and Fenris, noting them for the first time. "What… what is this?"

"I'm sorry, Gaius," Cato said. "I lied to you. I knew you would try to stop me if you found out what I was doing."

Gaius leaned against the wall and slid slowly down it. "What does it matter anymore? We are all dead. Therion knows about our schemes to overthrow him." He gestured to the Eluvian, his hand slick with blood. "Even if we survive, we have no place to go. There is nowhere in Tevinter that will shelter us."

"That's not true," Aedan said. He nodded at the Eluvian. "The Grey Wardens of Weisshaupt would."

Anders sucked in a breath. Oh, Maker… What was Aedan doing? The man was a slaver. He bought and sold elves like Fenris every day without thought. And besides, Fenris would never—

"No." Fenris crossed his arms, a mean feat considering he had to hold his sword in one hand to do it. "I refuse to aid this magister-this slaver. Let him rot with the rest of them, it is no more than what he deserves." Just to drive his point home, Fenris said it again—in Arcanum.

"I did what I had to do, elf, to make sure my house survived," Gaius rasped.

"But you failed in that, didn't you. How does it feel to be so helpless? It is sobering, is it not? Imagine feeling like this every day, every hour, every second of your life. That is what you have consigned thousands to."

"We can't leave them here to die," Christopher said in astonishment. "If you could forgive me, then you should be able to forgive them. No one deserves what is going to happen to them."

Fenris snorted in disgust. "We would be letting magisters loose in Weisshaupt."

"We would also have the Black Divine. I don't think the Divine will like that too much. In fact, I am pretty sure that if it gets out that the wardens helped him, it would mean trouble with Orlais." Carver said. When everyone turned to him he shrugged again. "What? Why is when I say something that makes sense, you all always look at me like I've sprouted a second head? Fenris has a point. Nothing good will come of this. We should be leaving."

Aedan looked from one person to another, finally resting his eyes on Cato. "Anders can heal him, but we cannot take you with us. Can you get out of the spire?" When Cato nodded, Aedan continued on. "If you need to, you may come to Weisshaupt. Do not give your name. The wardens cannot afford an Exalted March."

"I understand. Thank you."

At Aedan's signal, Anders knelt down next to Gaius. He pried the man's hand away and replaced them with his own. As magic flowed through the magister, Anders whispered in his ear. "I thought you had control of most of the guards in Minrathous. Why did they turn on you?"

Gaius' lip curled. "Gold. Why else? In another life, I might almost admire Therion for his nerve. But I suspect it was not his idea. Lucretia is cunning and she has his balls in a vice. One third of the senate slaughtered… I never thought it would go this far."

After Anders repaired the damage to his stomach, he pulled his magic back, knitting together muscle and flesh. "I don't like you Gaius. You trade in lives, and I don't just mean slavery. You would have made a formidable Archon. I can't say I'm sorry to see that your plan failed."

"Really? That does not surprise me. Cato and I had such grand plans. We were going to shape Tevinter into a new image. I don't care about selling slaves. It was only a means to an end."

"See? That's why you're frightening. The Chantry of Orlais only sees magisters that don't care about human lives. You have no idea of what you have done to the rest of the mages of Thedas. What horror we go through because magisters can't control their impulses. We pay for your mistakes. Not you. But I just wanted to thank you. I know now why mages are feared. I never understood it until recently, not fully."

When he was finished, Anders made to move away, but Gaius grabbed him by the arm and held him still. "You've saved my life, so let me give you a piece of advice. In many of the royal houses in Thedas, there is a magister, sent there to wheedle their way into the good graces of the ruling families. I was never able to find out when they were to act, but it will be soon. Thedas was to be thrown into chaos, and Tevinter was to be there to pick up the pieces."

"We already know. We killed one in Starkhaven years ago. Some of you blood mages are a little obvious, what with the body parts strewn about."

Gaius gave a weak chuckle. "That was only the vanguard. Therion learned from his mistakes. These will not be easily found out. They are everywhere. They are in several of the principalities of the Free Marches. One is with the Ferelden King. Another is with the White Divine. There is even one in Neverra, with the Grand Enchanter."

Anders reared back in horror. "No…" he got to his feet and stumbled back from Gaius.

The magister looked at him with pity. "You might think I'm a monster, but I would never be insane enough to enact such a plan. Despite my best efforts, dark days are coming."

"Anders?" Merrill walked over to him and touched his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Behind him, Anders could hear Cato, Feynriel and Gaius hurry from the room, without so much as a farewell. "I…" Maker, this was a nightmare.

"Later," Aedan said. "We have to go."

"I still don't know what I'm looking for," Fenris called. "Since you decided to stop and help the magisters, Cato was never able to finish telling me. We should return to Weisshaupt. If you insist on this foolhardy plan, we can do it from there."

"Agreed." Aedan nodded.

Without needing more prompting, Anders watched Fenris' brands flare to life. The Eluvian immediately responded in kind. "Maker…" Anders whispered in awe. Bathed in a blue glow, Fenris seemed unreal, and out of Anders' reach. For a moment, the mage became frightened. He wanted to shout at Fenris and tell him to stop. But when the image of a room solidified in the mirror, the words stuck in his throat. One by one, the wardens ran through the mirror, leaving Fenris for last so he could close the portal.

Just like that, Anders was freed from Tevinter.

But with Gaius' pronouncement ringing in his ears, he knew that it wasn't true—not completely.


	72. Chapter 72

A/N: I felt this chapter and the previous one needed to be posted at the same time._  
><em>

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><p><em>One week ago, Denerim, the royal palace<em>

"Your majesty! You need to run. You—" The guards words were cut off with a gurgle as the pride demon crushed his chest. It flung the body away, where it landed with a crash against the wall.

There were a ring of guards around Alistair, and he tried to push through them. "Let me pass! I'm not an invalid." They stood in the hallway that led to the royal apartments. The pride demon loomed at one end. Almost too big for the hallway, the plaster cracked above its head as it moved forward.

"You aren't armored, your Majesty," one guard said. "We can't allow it."

"I was sleeping!" Alistair cried in frustration. "At least I bothered to put on some leggings. Now give me a sword and move out of my way, or I'll send you to somewhere awful, like Antiva or something."

Even though he couldn't see him behind the pride demon, Alistair could hear Jevon laughing. Maker, he had trusted Jevon. The man had been in the palace for over a year now. How blind Alistair had been. Reflecting on it now, he should have known something was wrong. Jevon had shown himself at the palace gates and begged for work. Alistair had been desperate and hired him. It had been as simple as that. But what was he supposed to have done? His nieces and nephews had driven off one tutor after another. Word had spread throughout Denerim about the royal heir and his siblings. No one had wanted anything to do with them. It didn't matter how much Alistair was offering to pay.

Their mother-his esteemed sister-had taken herself off to Orlais years ago. Alistair had never been so glad to see the back of someone. She had become insufferable and demanding. Her relationship to Alistair had ensured that no one would gainsay her. It had been Teagan's idea to send her off to Orlais with a generous allowance. Alistair had been a bit dismayed at how easily she had agreed to abandon her children. But he hadn't been surprised. Aedan had been right when he's said that everyone was just out for themselves. Alistair knew that, but her ready agreement still stung. They had been more his than hers by then. It had been strange at first, but he had muddled through it somehow.

"After I'm through with you, I'll kill Liam next," Jevon cried. "Ferelden will fall to pieces as they scramble to find someone to take over the throne until his brother comes of age."

That was it. Alistair grabbed a sword from one of his guards. The man was so surpised, he was able to snatch it right out of his hand. He pushed against the wall of plate armor. Liam was his oldest nephew and heir. He had just turned nineteen, and was thankfully free of his mother's influence. Alistair was proud of the boy, and in a way, saw him as the son he would never have. He was bright, and willing to listen. He had learned from the mistakes Alistair had made over the years. How Goldanna had ever birthed such a wonderful boy, Alistair would never know.

"You blood mages are all alike," Alistair said as he finally got the guards to part. Shirtless and barefoot, he stood in front of them, his hand clenched tightly on his borrowed sword. "You talk, talk, talk, but you never say anything of interest. Just the same old doom and gloom." He had to keep Jevon distracted long enough to do what he needed.

It had been years since Alistair had been in any kind of fight. He didn't count the sparing matches he had with his guards. He suspected they've been letting him win for years. Still, people tended to forget he had been trained as a templar. He had spent a good portion of his life learning to do one thing.

Hunt mages.

"Tevinter will rise," Jevon intoned. "It's coming, and you can do nothing to stop it!"

_That's right,_ Alistair thought. _Keep talking._ He called on his long unused templar skills. It was taking him longer than it used to. The demon in front of him roared and Alistair shifted his feet to steady himself. He glanced over his shoulder to the guards. "Attack on my signal."

"What's the signal, your majesty?" one asked.

The king looked back at the demon. "You'll know it." He called out to Jevon. "All for Ferelden? We were a backwater outpost for the Imperium centuries ago. I would have thought they would be more interested in Nevarra, or the Anderfels. Maybe even Orlais itself." He could feel the power building inside him. Just a little longer. Just a bit more…

"We will have them as well. I'm not the only one. Soon, the whole of Thedas will know the might of Tevinter. Kill them!" he screamed to the demon.

Out of time.

The smite blasted forth from Alistair, slamming into the demon and Jevon. The demon staggered backwards, and Jevon cried out in pain as the mage crashed to the floor. Alistair gave a great cry and rushed forward, his guards with him every step of the way.

* * *

><p><em>Two days ago, Val Royeaux, the Grand Cathedral <em>

"Does she say anything else?" the Divine Justinia V asked. "How sure is Lizette that what she is saying is true?"

Leliana shook her head, her bright red hair falling over her face. "No. She only says that we must be more vigilant with Tevinter. Something is happening there, but she knows not what."

The two women stood on a balcony overlooking the city. Below them, the gardens of the Great Cathedral were in bloom. Justinia smiled to herself as she watched two children race across the lush grass, chasing after a ball. "Did we make a mistake in allowing the wardens to keep the Key?" she asked softly. "If there was anyone that would not use him for their own gain, it would be them."

"Killing him was out of the question," Leliana assured her. "Aedan and he are friends. If it was found out that the Chantry had a hand in his death… Well, Aedan is very protective of those he cares about."

Justinia raised a pale eyebrow at her. "You would know. I trust your wisdom in this. I also don't wish to take his life. Not for something he had no control over. He has yet to abuse the power he's been given. Why should he pay the ultimate price for that?"

"Lizette also mentioned that a templar was sent with him—Carver Hawke."

"Well now," Justinia mused. "That is interesting. The witch saved his life once, and that of his family. What is she up to?"

Leliana sighed. "I don't think she had a hand in his involvement, but she still does not mean well. Her help does not come for free. She wants something. We haven't yet been able to figure out the pattern in her activities over the past decade, but I feel it's converging."

"I feel it as well. You can practically taste in the air, a calm before the storm. My predecessors were always content to ignore her-to our detriment, I'm afraid. If only we could find her daughter, maybe she would know what her mother is planning. I thought when she saved the Hawkes that she was using them to destroy the Circles, but that didn't happen, did it? Instead, Viscount Hawke is the first mage to ever hold any sort of political power outside of Tevinter. Why she wished this…" She sighed in frustration. "Maybe we were wrong to keep all of this to ourselves."

"Maybe so, but we can't turn back down." Leliana touched Justinia' cheek. She leaned forward and lightly brushed the other woman's lips with her own. "You are a good soul, and I am proud to stand with you."

"Thank you," Justinia whispered. "At times, I feel like I'm teetering on the brink of ruin. The Knight-Vigilant shouts at me from the White Spire daily. He wants me to put an official stop to Circle reform. I dread reading one of his many missives he sends me."

Leliana laughed softly. "I cannot see you hiding from pieces of parchment. Let him bluster. As long as you are silent, change can happen. Wynne and her warden friend aren't proposing we dissolve the Circles."

Justinia gave her a wry smile. "You and I know that, but he doesn't see it that way. I think he is more afraid of what this will mean for his position if they're successful." She turned from the balcony and walked into the cathedral. "But enough of that. Tell me, has out little spy spoken yet? Or does she still babble on about Tevinter might?"

Following her on silent feet, Leliana shook her head. "She has spoken, but only little. We were lucky that we caught her in time, yes?"

"I did not appreciate waking up with a knife to my throat. The woman was bold, I'll give her that." They weaved their way through large corridors lined with paintings of past Divines and their accomplishments.

"I didn't appreciate waking up to see it."

"If you hadn't been there…" Justinia stopped and turned to face the other woman.

"Don't think on it." Leliana pressed her fingers against Justinia's lips. "She won't be able to try again. I have names now, a few places. Letters were sent out this morning to the Seekers. They will know to position themselves next to those ruling families that are in danger."

"I can only hope they arrive in time. I think…" She closed her eyes and looked away. "I must send you away. Go to your friend Aedan. I have stood silent for too long." She opened her eyes. "I will miss you. With Cassandra in Kirkwall, I will be able to trust no one."

"Trust your heart," Leliana whispered. "I have never known it to let you down before."

"If only I had your faith in me."

"And the Tevinter spy?" Leliana asked.

"Kill her. I may have mercy in me when it comes to others, but not to a blood mage that wishes me and mine harmed."

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><p><em>Two weeks ago, Kirkwall, The Viscount's Keep<em>

Cullen pinned Marian's arms to her sides, forcing her to release the dagger. "No," he whispered fiercely. "It's not worth it, Marian."

She dropped her head down, her black hair falling over her eyes. "He's gone, Cullen. They took my baby." She let out a sob, her body heaving in anguish. "Malcolm is worth it. We have to find him. We have to…" She broke off on another cry.

Marian had done what she always did after she woke up in the morning-she went to see Malcolm in his room. He was almost four now, and had his mother's tendency to sleep in. She liked to have her face be the first one he saw when he opened his eyes. Her family had been close when she was growing up. Her mother had been there almost every day of her young life. Even though she knew the practicality of having a nurse, she still tended to Malcolm every chance she got.

Since she was viscount, those chances were few.

So she woke him every morning and the two went down to eat breakfast together. No matter what was happening in her day, Marian made sure that they ate every meal together. Cullen was usually gone by then, but he was always back in time for supper, and he took one day a week off from his duties as Knight-Commander to spend the day with Malcolm and Marian.

It wasn't ideal, but the three of them made it work.

This morning, Malcolm hadn't been in his bed.

A note was instead.

His nurse-the woman that Marian had hired personally two years ago-had snatched her child in the night. The note was very explicit on who had taken him and why. Tevinter would rise, and if Marian wanted to see her son again, she wouldn't interfere.

Fuck that. Marian Hawke had killed the blighted Arishok. If they thought she would stand by meekly while Tevinter took not only her son, but Kirkwall as well, then they thought wrong. It would've been better to kill her.

"Malcolm's worth it," she cried. "I don't care what kind of demon can help me get my son back, I will have him again."

"Marian," Cullen whispered fiercely. "The templars and the guards have been dispatched. You've alerted your friends. I can't let you destroy yourself. I love you too much for that."

Marian's body went limp in his arms and she turned, clutching at his breastplate. "They took our baby, Cullen. I'll tear Tevinter apart for this."

As he looked in her angry, tear filled eyes, Cullen gave her a curt nod. "And I'll help you."

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><p><em>Present day, Vigil's Keep<em>

Nate stood at the front gates waiting for his guests. He had his full warden armor on, the dark leather freshly oiled. His tabard was crisp and clean, and he had made sure that everyone else in the keep followed suit.

It was not often the king visited.

Nate had made sure that on the rare times King Alistair had come to the Vigil that he stayed out of sight. Aedan might not hold any animosity towards him for his father's part in what had happened during the Blight, but that didn't mean the king didn't. Nate had thought it prudent to not test his ire, despite Aedan's assurances to the contrary.

He'd had a small fear that being named Warden-Commander of Ferelden might cause problems with the crown, but Denerim had remained silent.

_Maybe I'm putting too much thought into this. It's been years now since the Blight._

As they saw riders approach, Nate tried to calm his nerves. Sigrun glanced up at him. "What do you think he wants?"

"I don't know, but it can't be good," Nate replied honestly. "Kings don't just come somewhere with barely any notice for good news."

Oghren snorted. "Probably just misses the good old days and wants to reminisce. Must be boring to be king."

"I don't think that's it," Nate muttered.

The horses were racing towards the gates now. Nate's anxiety shot up a notch. They were rushing towards the keep as if they were being chased by the horde. The horses skidded to a halt, and their riders dismounted. Nate's eyebrows shot up at the lack of guards that were with Alistair-only four men guarded the king.

Alistair was in golden plate, something that Nate knew had once been his father's. Without any preamble, the king strode towards the three wardens.

Nate opened his mouth to greet him, but Alistair cut him off. "What in the Void are you wardens doing? I had a blood mage try to kill me for 'Tevinter glory' a few days ago, and he kept shouting that the Grey Wardens would be next and they would 'pay for harboring the Key'."

"This oughta be good," Oghren chuckled.


	73. Chapter 73

To everyone that is reading, reviewing and putting this story on their alerts, thank you very much!

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><p>No one was just one thing or another. People were made up of different facets, and only a lucky few ever got to see each and every one in a single person. To do that took time, and a willingness to open up one's self to another. In return, one had to pay attention to see the little idiosyncrasies that made up the whole.<p>

It was the give and take of a relationship, and without it a relationship could flounder.

Fenris had spent his whole life closed off—or what he could remember of it. Opening yourself up only led to heartache, disappointment, and pain. He had put up barriers in order to survive Tevinter, in order to survive Danarius. He had kept his head down and his opinions to himself, even as his anger and bitterness grew. He had kept the pain close to where his heart had been, nursing the rage until it had grown and consumed him—he had welcomed it.

The three years he had spent between Tevinter and Kirkwall had been one lesson after another. He had learned how to survive in the rest of Thedas, gaining skills that had never been taught to him. As a slave he had little to no concept of money, or how to get what he wanted. More than once his ignorance had led to betrayal, and those that had crossed him had learned to their detriment never to do it again.

Slowly, he had gained a small reputation in the cities he had roamed. Despite his best efforts, people began to know of him, and the fighting skills that could be bought. He had no other way to earn the coin he had needed to eat. In Antiva, there had been a need for hired swords, people with skill that were cheaper than the Crows. He escorted caravans of goods for merchant princes, and guarded lords and ladies from their own machinations. He had learned a lot in his time in Antiva, but he had forgotten one very important rule—to lie low, because Tevinter was always watching.

He had made a good amount of coin by the time he'd had to leave Antiva, enough to flee the country, one step ahead of the relentless slavers. It had been as he was crossing the border between Antiva and the Free Marches-with nothing more than the clothes on his back, and a pouch full of sovereigns-that it had occurred to him that he couldn't spend his whole life like this, always wondering when the slavers would come next. He needed a place to bunker down, some place where he could fortify himself and wait for Danarius to come to him.

Kirkwall had met those needs.

With the refugees from Ferelden streaming in, Fenris had known he could slip inside and become lost in the masses. There were only a few entrances into the city. Tevinter had built Kirkwall well, surrounding it with high walls. Fenris would use what little coin he had left, to pay people to watch and report back to him. He had thought if he was smart enough, he just might lure Danarius to him, and that's when he would strike.

It had been a plan full of holes and the potential for failure, but Fenris' time away from Tevinter had given him a determination to never go back, and a need to make Danarius pay for what he had done to him. For many years he would wake up with a scream dying on his lips, his body remembering the pain that had taken his memories away from him. Or it would be the touch of Danarius' hands on his body, or the laughter on Hadriana's lips as Danarius used his markings against him, making sure Fenris was primed and ready to fuck someone for his amusement.

In a way, those nightmares had been worse than the ones of the ritual that had given him his brands.

He had never even considered going to Nevarra. It was the home of the Circle of the Magi, and Fenris had wanted nothing to do with it. Going to a country where mages held power, no matter how small had been too dangerous. Not for Fenris, but for the mages.

Whenever he had seen someone using magic during his time in Antiva, his blood had grown cold. The way their magic pulled on his brands, had always invariably triggered something in him. Why couldn't the templars see that allowing their mages to roam free was one concession too many? The templars in Tevinter had done that at one point, allowing their mages little liberties that eventually led to the magisters rising again. All around him he had seen how Thedas teetered on the brink of chaos.

But in Kirkwall, the Circle there had a reputation. The Knight-Commander was known for being strict, almost confining the mages under her charge. The templars in Kirkwall were ever vigilant, and apostates knew better than to linger in the city long.

Danarius would not find it easy to be a blood mage, nor a slaver in Kirkwall.

Kirkwall was to be his last stand, a place where he would embrace his fate. And it had been _his_ fate, no one else's. Just as it was his body, his heart, and his mind. It had been terrifying at first when he had escaped Tevinter. Even small things like the ability to eat whenever he was hungry had once been denied him. But even though the end of the lesson had been harsh, his time with the Fog Warriors had blunted some of that uncertainty. He'd had a taste of freedom once before.

He wasn't going to give it up again.

Either Danarius would have met his death in Kirkwall, or Fenris would. He would rather have died than be taken back to that nothing life, to that hollow existence. But even as he had thought that, he had known himself for a liar. Death would only mean that Danarius had won. Fenris wouldn't even give him the satisfaction of ripping the lyrium from the elf's corpse. His days and nights on the way to Kirkwall, had been filled with fantasies of what he would do to Danarius when he finally came. He had been consumed with thoughts of revenge, of how he would make his former master suffer for the pain he had caused.

But the nightmares had never stopped.

By the time he had reached Kirkwall, Fenris had found that drinking had been the only thing to give him any peace. He would drink until the memories and the thoughts ceased. He would drink until he could finally close his eyes without the worry of what new nightmare his mind would conjure next.

That had been a Void all its own. Sometimes, at his most inebriated, he would catch tantalizing glimpses of a life long gone. He would never remember any of it the next day, but they had been there, tormenting him with thoughts of what he'd had once had if only he could recall it.

Magic had stripped everything from his life. It corrupted those deemed incorruptible. It caused war. It caused Blights. It stole and it maimed. The true Blight were the mages of Thedas—not the darkspawn. If the Chantry in Orlais had any notion of what they stood on the brink of, then they would do Thedas a favor and slaughter every mage in existence, or ever would be.

Even the children, for they would one day grow up to bring terror.

But Fenris had miscalculated—badly. By the time he had made it to Kirkwall, and slipped into the city, he had found Kirkwall in turmoil. The Gallows had been everything he had heard it was, but it had also been filled to bursting. Mages from Starkhaven and Ferelden, along with those already in the Gallows, had taken up the small resources the templars had. No templars had roamed the streets like Fenris had been led to believe—not any longer. They had begun to rely on citizens of Kirkwall informing on others in order to bring apostates in.

When Fenris had realized this, it had been too late. Danarius had somehow gotten to Kirkwall ahead of him. Fenris hadn't known how he had been found out, but his former master had been there all the same. Leaving had been out of the question. He wouldn't get another chance like that again. So when word had reached him that not only had Danarius' location been discovered, but that he had brought something with him, Fenris had known immediately it had been a trap. At the time, he had thought that either Danarius had been foolish in making himself so visible, or that he had been insulting Fenris' intelligence with so obvious a ruse.

But the box had been rumored to contain papers that outlined Fenris' past-names, dates, bills of sale. The craving to know who he had been, and what he'd once had had torn him up inside. Danarius might not have been so foolish as to bring something like that with him, but Fenris hadn't been able to not take the chance that it might be true.

So he had done the only sensible thing he could have done at the time. He had gone through an intermediary to hire someone to look for the box for him, and bring its contents to him. It had taken up the rest of his coin, but as he had watched the battle in the Alienage from the shadows, he had known it had been worth it.

And when he had met those that Anso had hired for him, his life had changed forever.

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><p>Anders watched the game that Fenris and Zevran were playing. His head tilted to the side as he tried to predict what move one of the elves would make next. The two of them were moving their pieces across the checkered board rapidly, each piece striking its surface in rhythmic clacks. Occasionally one of them would pause, his hand hovering over a piece before making a move. Anders couldn't follow it, no matter how hard he tried. The two elves were playing a silent game of skill that was out of Anders' sphere. He'd tried a few times in the past to play with them, but only got soundly beaten for his trouble. Puissance was an Orlesian game, pitting two players against each other. Each had carved game pieces that represented the Chantry and the Circle. The point of the game was to collect as many of your opponents pieces as possible, while defending either your Grand Enchanter, or your Divine—depending on if you were playing with the Circle or Chantry pieces. Whoever captured their opponent's Grand Enchanter or Divine first, won.<p>

It sounded simple, but there was a lot of strategy involved, some of which took thinking about what you were going to do several moves in advance, and predicting what your opponent was doing.

Fenris and Zevran used to play all the time, before Zevran had decided to stay in Weisshaupt, unable to leave Aedan. Anders couldn't think that far enough ahead to play on their level, so he contented himself with watching.

They had been at Weisshaupt for three days now. Once they had gone through the Eluvian and made it back, Fenris had flatly refused to take them anywhere else until Anders could be seen to, and he had recovered. He and Aedan had had their inevitable fight, but when Fenris had pointed out that Anders was at his limit and that Aedan was being foolish, the First Warden had backed down.

Fenris was as ruthless with his words as he was with Puissance.

Zevran leaned back in his chair. "Ah, another draw. We seem to be doing this a lot today, no?"

"We're both out of practice," Fenris agreed. "This is the first time I have been able to really play in years. I… I missed this." He glanced down at the board, and studiously avoided Zevran's eyes as he rearranged his pieces back to their starting position.

Zevran wink at Anders while Fenris wasn't looking, and the mage grinned back at him. Although it was still hard for him, and more than likely always would be, Fenris was becoming a little more verbally honest with his feelings.

It was strange for Anders to think back on how the two of them were while they had been living in Kirkwall. Experiences in life shaped a person. The ability to bend like a slender tree in the wind without breaking was a hard one to learn, but both he and Fenris had learned it well.

Or a little bit, at least.

Fenris would always be surly, and quick to draw blood with his words. His autonomy had been hard won, and Anders knew better than anyone what it felt like to fight to have freedom over your own thoughts and actions. Fenris had learned that life alone, even among a sea of friends, was no life at all. Anders could understand that. When he had become a warden, he'd felt the same way.

Trust was hard to give freely, but once it was, once you took the leap of faith, the reward was immeasurable.

Anders had many regrets in his life, but he would never regret the time it had taken Fenris to open up to him. He would never regret the things he had done that had led them to each other. Maybe it was silly, but merging with Justice had been the catalyst for him to flee the wardens and to Kirkwall. It had led him to Hawke, and then to Fenris.

It had been the worst and the best decision of his life.

No one understood him or loved him like Fenris did. The two of them were intertwined now, only occasional parting, just to come back together again. They still bickered and argued like they always had, about mages and slaves, about how mages should be treated and where the line was. But there was no real animosity like there used to be. It was just two people with slightly opposing viewpoints, debating.

It was what he had once wished for in Kirkwall. Ah, but no real regrets, remember?

Anders sank down into his well cushioned chair, and sighed. They were in Aedan and Zevran's bedchamber, and the room had the stamp of Zevran everywhere. Anders knew that Aedan would have been content with just a bed, and a dresser. But Zevran was like Anders, in that he needed more comfort out of life. So the bed was large and the mattress well stuffed. On one end of the enormous room sat a sitting area with two plush sofas. Next to that was a round table, polished to a glossy shine. Anders sat in one of the chairs that surrounded it, while Zevran and Fenris were sitting in its partners.

Knowing Zevran and Aedan, Anders tried not to think about what they had probably done in every inch of this room.

"Ah!" Zevran cried, breaking Anders out of his thoughts. "I have you now." He triumphantly set the piece he had captured next to his growing pile on the side of the board.

Fenris gave the other elf a small smile. "So you say. I would have thought you would have given up on setting these obvious traps. You only speak so when you are trying to lure me into a false sense of security."

Chuckling, Zevran propped his elbow on the table, and placed his chin in his hand. "As obvious as the trap that Flemeth is setting up for us, no?"

There it was-the thing that the three of them had been avoiding for days now. While Aedan, Merrill, Christopher and Carver spent their time trying to map out everything they knew about the Eluvians, Arlathan, and Flemeth, Anders, Zevran and Fenris had decided to keep to themselves. Carver could add little, but his voice of caution was needed where the others were concerned.

Aedan was also trying to root out the Tevinter spy that had infiltrated Weisshaupt. He didn't like the fact that there was someone there reporting to Therion, someone who had gone through Frey's missives and sent them to Minrathous. Zevran, for all his apparent idleness, used his time during the night to narrow down the list of suspects. It was slow going because Weisshaupt had grown over the years, and the demon masquerading as Frey hadn't been too interested in keeping records.

As if by some taciturn agreement, the three of them had avoided mentioning anything about Tevinter, Arlathan, or Flemeth. But it seemed that Zevran had decided it must be spoken of.

Fenris paused with his fingers hovering over his templar. "Speak plainly, Zev. You know I hate it when you speak in riddles and make me guess your intentions. I am not in the mood."

"Since when are you ever in the mood?" Zevran let out a dramatic sigh. "But if you must spoil my fun, then all right. I think Aedan is being short sighted, and it will lead to nothing good."

Fenris slowly raised his eyes, and Anders straightened in his chair. This was unlike Zevran. It was rare that he ever questioned Aedan, at least publicly. Anders jerked his head towards the closed door that led to Aedan's study, as if the First Warden could somehow sense they were talking about him and would burst through the door at any moment. He turned back when Fenris spoke.

"I have my opinions," Fenris said carefully, "but you seem to have your own that you wish us to hear, without Aedan's presence."

"Flemeth is like us right now, no?" Zevran waved his hand in front of the board. "We are pieces to be used so she can win some game. She plans her moves far ahead, centuries even. Now you and I, we are suspicious by nature. We see plots and ulterior motives in everyone and everything. It is how you and I survive, yes? Even so, I have never been able to work out exactly what she has been up to, and I consider myself very intelligent when it comes to these things."

He reached over and picked up one of Fenris' templars, ruining the game. But it no longer mattered when he held up the piece. "First you have my Aedan. He is strong, but young still. His family, they are betrayed, slaughtered in front of him, his home destroyed. He has no one until the warden Duncan comes. He saves my Aedan, setting him on a path." He placed the piece in the center of the board.

Plucking another templar off the board, he held this one up as well. "Then you have our good King Alistair," another templar, "and King Cailan, his half-brother. Alistair is a bastard, no? Not in temperament, but in blood. He and my Aedan meet at Ostagar." One of the pieces was set down next to the templar already on the board. "Along with Cailan." The third templar joined the other two.

Fenris and Anders sat engrossed while Zevran spoke, Fenris with a frown on his face.

"Ostagar happens, and almost everyone dies." In a dramatic gesture, Zevran scattered all of the pieces on the board except for the three in the center, toppling them. "Few are lucky to escape-Cailan is not one of them." He flicked his index finger at the game piece and it fell over. "Aedan and Alistair, they are not with the army. Duncan knew of Alistair's bloodline, and had not wanted him to join the fray. So he gives them a task to light a beacon, away from battle. Not without its peril, but not in the fight with the horde either.

"They are betrayed, the battle lost, and Alistair and Aedan are left half dead in a tower. They are about to be killed, no? Until someone comes and saves them." He picked up one of his pieces, the Grand Enchanter. "Flemeth comes to save Aedan and Alistair. Not the king and not Duncan. But two wardens, one of which has only been so for a day. She heals them, gives them shelter from the horde, and then bids them to unite Ferelden under one banner using warden treaties. She even gives them her daughter as a companion, urging them to use her skills. This Witch of the Wilds, this Flemeth of legend, has taken an interest in two wardens with no real experience in what it would take to do such a thing, let alone kill an Archdemon. I have asked myself often, why had she done it? But in the past, I have let it go, because she inadvertently brought Aedan into my life. Now I know that I shouldn't have." He placed the Grand Enchanter on the board, but slightly away from the rest. He joined a mage next to the two templars.

"The child her daughter gave birth to," Fenris muttered, his eyes locked on the board. "That was her goal."

"Was it?" Zevran mused. "I used to believe that, but I think I did not have the whole picture, just as you two did not."

"Not just the child," Anders said. "She wanted something more. She could have saved any other warden, but she chose Alistair as well."

Zevran gave him an approving smile. "Just so. It seems a coincidence at first, but I no longer think so. Not with the encounter your friend Hawke had."

Anders reached out and picked up a mage piece. He set it next to the Grand Enchanter. "The way Hawke told it, Flemeth came to them in the form of a dragon. They were fleeing from the horde, and were surrounded. Flemeth offered to help them get to a city where they could catch a ship to escape Ferelden for Kirkwall. In exchange, she was supposed to take an amulet to the dalish elves on Sundermount. Fenris and I were both with Hawke when she did as she was told. Part of the witch was in the amulet, and she was born anew.

"Before she left, she said, 'We stand on the precipice of change. The world fears the inventible plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment… and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap.'"

"'It is only when you fall that you can learn to fly.'" Fenris finished. "I remember that. She also asked me if I was truly free. I told her she saw too much."

"Marian listened to her, did she not?" Zevran asked. "She is a very powerful mage, not only in ability, but politically as well-the first of her kind outside of Tevinter. She does not answer to the Circle, or to the Chantry. From my understanding, she was the lynchpin that held your group together in Kirkwall. Without her, none of you would have ever spoken to each other, much less met. Alistair, another that she saved, is now on the throne of Ferelden. Aedan, is First Warden. Marian Hawke is Viscount of Kirkwall, married to the Knight-Commander."

Zevran began to group pieces together, adding a new one with each name he spoke. "Of Aedan's companions, we have Wynne, who is now an Arch Mage with powerful connections to the Circle of Magi in Nevarra. As I said, Alistair is King of Ferelden. Leliana, is the left hand of the Divine in Orlais. I still have my connections throughout Thedas. Sten, a qunari, returned to Par Vollen, but he and Aedan still keep in contact. Shale the golem went to Kal-Sharok in the Anderfels, and Aedan has spoken to her since we came here. Oghren is disreputable, but he has his own connections in Orzammar. Powerful friends for a powerful person no? None of which would have happened if Aedan had not survived. I would still be with the Crows or dead. Alistair would have perished in Ostagar. Oghren would have died searching for his wife. Leliana would never have left Lothering, and might have been killed with the others. Shale would have remained frozen for all eternity. Sten would have been left to rot in a cage as the darkspawn overtook Lothering. Wynne most certainly would have died in the tower when it fell, whether by a demon when she defended her charges, or by the templars when they enacted the Right of Annulment, it does not matter.

"Aedan was our lynchpin. Now most of us are in positions of power, or know those that do."

Anders stared at the board, his mind in a whirl. "Why? Why would she do this?"

"I do not know. If I did, I would not have my concerns now," Zevran answered honestly. "If Aedan had died… If she had miscalculated even the smallest bit, none of this would have come to pass. The maneuvering is staggering, is it not? In one fell swoop, she delivered to each of us the one man that saved us."

"And me," Anders said. He added another mage piece to the group on the board. "If it wasn't for Aedan, I would have hanged."

"You are where it converges. Your importance cannot be ignored." Zevran gave him a small smile.

Fenris began adding his own pieces. "Aveline, Captain of the Guard. She would have died trying to save her husband. Merrill, who knows all about elven lore, and Eluvians, she would have destroyed herself if not for Hawke. Varric, whose connections rival your own, Zevran. Without Hawke, he would have died in the Deep Roads, betrayed by his brother. Isabela, who has the fastest ship on the seas. The qunari would have found her eventually, and then she would have wished she had died. With her comes Rivain, and those she knows there. Carver, who thought he had destroyed Corypheus, one of the ancient magisters that had started it all. Flemeth saved Carver's life as well. Anders, half-brother to King Medwin of the Anderfels."

Fenris glanced up. "There is also Sebastian Vael, and a multitude of others."

"Indeed," Zevran said in approval. "The spider's web spreads out, and becomes more intricate with each person Marian and Aedan have saved-the King of Orzammar, a few of the dalish clans in Ferelden, the Circle of Ferelden."

"Feynriel," Anders intoned. "The templars and mages in Kirkwall. So many I can't remember them all."

Looking at the board, something occurred to Anders that stole his breath. "If Aedan were to call for help, who would come? How about Hawke and Aedan together?"

Fenris' chair scraped on the floor as he abruptly got to his feet. "All of them-the dalish, the dwarves, the humans, the mages, the templars, and the Grey Wardens. All of Starkhaven, Kirkwall, Ferelden, and the Anderfels would answer their call-all of that and more. Maybe not right away, but most would come without hesitation. Between Marian and Aedan, over half of Thedas or those in power call them friend, most of them owing debts of life."

Zevran slapped a palm on the table. "That's it. I did not have the whole picture, no? Oh, what a crafty old bitch she is."

"She sent Aedan and Fenris to Tevinter on purpose," Anders whispered. "She told Feynriel about the Eluvians. She wanted Cato to know. Why?"

"She wants us to go to Arlathan. She is betting on Aedan's desire to end the Blights, and to find Morrigan to spur him on." Zevran straightened in his chair and spread his hands on the table. "She wants war with Tevinter, and she has placed her pieces very carefully so that it will be so. There have been several exalted Marches on Minrathous, but it would still not call an army of the scale that Aedan and Marian could. But she also wants us to go to Arlathan." He snorted in frustration. "Ah, so we do not have all the pieces yet."

"It has to be her daughter. Aedan said that Morrigan went through an Eluvian, but where else could she have gone that Flemeth could not reach, except for Arlathan." Anders asked.

"I don't know," Zevran said. "But the thought of ending the Blights and finding his son, tantalizes Aedan."

For the first time, Anders saw something he had never thought to see on Zevran's face—uncertainty. It shook the mage, and he opened his mouth before he could think. "You don't want Aedan to find her, do you?"

Zevran looked startled and sucked in a surprised breath. "Ah… You have become very perceptive. I admit this, yes? Aedan will not listen to reason when it concerns her and the child. He had a very different childhood than any of us. He grew up in a happy home, where he knew nothing but love. Aedan… He has always known that he preferred men, but he tried to like women, for his family. He could never do it, a rarity I think. Most men would be able to perform a little bit, but not my Aedan. They do nothing for him. So he thinks to himself, that this is the way I am, and I will be happy and content as an uncle. But now he does have a child out there, a child who does not know his father. It eats at him, this thought. He can't imagine a child not knowing a father that wants to see him."

Zevran smiled. "He is a bit naïve when it comes to these things, even after all this time. It's one of the many things I love about him. But it will also lead to his heartbreak. We don't know what the child is. We don't know what Morrigan has done to him. But Aedan is blind when I bring these things up. He tells me I am worried over nothing."

_Don't ask_, Anders thought to himself. _It's not important, don't ask._

"If Aedan can't um… perform with women, how did he…"

_Damn it! Wonderful, Anders. _That's_ what you take out of this?_

Fenris rolled his eyes. Anders couldn't blame him.

Zevran cleared his throat. "Usually I would go into lurid detail, and make both of you jealous of my Aedan's prowess. Sufficed to say, I was there and helped him forget just what was happening."

Sitting back down in his chair, Fenris began to drum his fingers on the table. "As lovely as that information is, we still don't know what she wants in Arlathan. Or why she deemed Anders so important."

"The only way to find out is to go," Anders pointed out. The two elves looked at him. "What? It's the truth. Despite what she wants, she can't _make_ Aedan or Marian declare war on Tevinter. Aedan and I have already sent off missives to Medwin, and hopefully he will receive them soon, thus averting a war with the Anderfels. The wardens would never try to enter into a war with Tevinter, that's insane. Like we've been saying this whole time, we're missing key pieces to the puzzle. Our answers might lay in Arlathan."

"I can't believe you're telling us that you would rather go somewhere no one has seen in centuries, on the word of the Black Divine and a witch," Fenris said.

Anders grinned. "I can't either, but here we are."


	74. Chapter 74

Thank you everyone for the awesome reviews!

A/N: I'm back! I have a writing tumblr now. The link is in my profile.

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><p>"I thought I'd find you here." Anders walked over to where Fenris was sitting on the floor, and sank down next to him. Fenris had his legs bent, and was resting his chin on his knees, his eyes locked with the Eluvian in front of him. He and Anders both were wearing their warden's armor, and their packs were full and ready in one corner of the room.<p>

Anders nudged Fenris with his shoulder, and held out a half a loaf of fresh bread. The elf muttered his thanks when he took it, but he didn't eat so much as a bite. The others were getting ready to leave- Fenris and Anders were just the first to gather in the room.

Turning the bread over in his hands, Fenris stared down at it. "I've never given much thought to what I am," he said slowly, almost to himself.

Anders laughed. "What? A sexy elf? I should count myself lucky that you haven't realized that before now. Someone else might have gotten to you first."

Fenris blew out an irritated breath, and his bangs shifted out of his eyes. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

Nudging Fenris with his shoulder again in apology, Anders' smile dropped from his face. "All right, what's wrong?"

Fenris gestured with the bread towards the Eluvian. "I've seen enough of the world now, that I find myself surprised that I've never given much thought about being an elf and what that means. I use to think it meant that no matter where I was born in Thedas, I would have always lived the life of a slave. The elves in Tevinter are nothing but slaves, with few exception. The city elves in the rest of Thedas are treated little better. None hold office, none hold any real wealth or power. And don't cite me examples of mercenaries and thieves, they have only the power the law allows them to get away with. One day, they too will be nothing."

He'd been thinking about it for days now. Fenris didn't like going into something blind, and he knew next to nothing about the elvhen. All around him, the people of Thedas had stories and tradition. Fenris had none. He'd seen the elves in the Alienages, cling to little things that defined them as a people. The dalish insisted they were the last of their kind. But what did any of them truly know about themselves?

"They call them master and mistress," Fenris continued on. "The elves in the city. They call the humans they work for by the same names I had to call everyone who was not a slave in Minrathous. The dalish are no better. They have the illusion of freedom, but they are really just wandering the world-rootless. It's been centuries since Arlathan fell, what do the dalish really know of where they came from? What does Merrill know?"

Anders cleared his throat. "You're scared, aren't you?"

Fenris' gauntlet tore through the bread in his fist, but he didn't deny Anders' words. "Perhaps… What was done to me… it was their magic. If they could conjure something like that, what else might we find? But at the same time, I can't go on not knowing… not knowing why. Why me? What was it about me that made it so that I lived? I've never been anything special. I'm not like Marian or Aedan. Maybe I'll find my answers there."

"Oh, love…" Anders leaned his head against Fenris' shoulder. "I wish you could see yourself the way I do. No matter what was done to you, you were always destined to do great things. I believe this. You have this ability to see straight to the heart of the matter that I wished I possessed. You're brave, and loyal." He turned his head a nipped at Fenris' ear. "And you're great in bed."

Fenris' lips twitched in a small smile. "I see… My greatness to you has more to do with my prowess in the bedchamber."

"See," Anders whispered. "Right to the heart of it."

For the first time in days, Fenris' swirling thoughts stopped. Maybe it had more to do with being around Merrill for so long. She liked to tell the stories of the dalish, and had spent considerable time on the way to Weisshaupt doing so. It had made Fenris wonder just what else he had missed out on in his life. The dalish looked down on the elves that weren't part of a tribe. They saw them as lost, and even human. Fenris had hated them for it.

Now he had to wonder if the dalish should be pitied. They were nothing but the shadows of a once great civilization. They could pretend all they wanted, but they were no more pure elven than any elf in Tevinter or the cities of Thedas. When he thought about it like that, his resentment towards them receded.

Fenris tried to salvage what was left of his bread, ripping off some of the larger chunks and popping them into his mouth. He ate quickly, and had just finished when the door behind them opened. They both got to their feet as the others trooped into the room. Fenris and Anders scooped up their packs, and slung them over their shoulders.

"Are we ready?" Anders asked. He ran his eyes over each one. "Aedan, you've got enough plate on you to make any dwarven armor smith weep with joy. Carver, your face isn't scowling in disapproval enough, you need to fix that. Merrill, eyes bright with anticipation, good, good. Zevran, I see two daggers on those lovely hips of yours. I'm going to assume you have more on your wonderful person. Christopher, ready to heal these idiots?" Finally he glanced back at Fenris. "And now all we need is Fenris to glow, and we can be off to parts unknown and more than likely dangerous."

The room fell silent except for Merrill who was laughing behind her hands.

Fenris rolled his eyes and turned towards the mirror. "Ignore him. You know how he gets when he's nervous." His brands flashed and he touched the blank surface of the Eluvian with his finger.

"I don't scowl. Do I?" Carver asked.

It was a good thing his back was to Carver and he couldn't see Fenris roll his eyes again. He ignored the others trying to reassure Carver, as images flickered across the Eluvian's surface. His heart hammered in his chest, and he hesitated. He was acutely aware of how the room had gone quiet. He wouldn't have been surprised if he found out that no one was so much as breathing. Maker knew that the air had seized in Fenris' lungs.

"Arlathan," he whispered.

For the first time, the rapid fire images didn't slow down to a small handful. Instead, it halted completely on one image. Fenris had just enough time to see a dark city under the earth before all chaos broke loose.

If the Blight was a tangible thing, then Fenris would have seen the tendrils that seeped out of the Eluvian. The corruption spread thick and fast, washing over Fenris and passing through him.

When the screaming started, Fenris jerked his hand away, closing off the portal.

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><p>Aedan Cousland had known much sorrow in his short life. His family was gone, killed by betrayal and greed. His brother might as well be dead to him, for all the time he had spent with Fergus after his family had died. Fergus had remarried long ago, and he had children now. Aedan had nieces and nephews he'd never seen. Where once Fergus and Aedan had been close, their family's deaths and the things each of them had had to do in order to survive the Blight, had taken its toll. It was painful when they saw each other, so neither of them tried.<p>

Aedan had lost friends as well, and had had to do things that still gave him nightmares years later, in order to protect those that he could.

But the one constant in his life, the one thing that Aedan could always count on, was Zevran. Aedan didn't know why the normally fickle elf had chosen to stay with him all these years, but he'd never questioned it. He'd lost Zevran once, long ago, when he'd traveled to Antiva in order to make sure the Crows never came after him again. There had been no goodbyes, no note. Just one day Zevran was gone, and Aedan had known- Maker, help him-where Zev had left for.

The months they'd been apart had torn him up inside, and Aedan had never felt so alone. Alistair was king now, and there would be no more talks around the campfire. Leliana and the others had moved on as well, each going their own way. There had been times when Aedan had questioned his decision to live instead of killing the Archdemon himself. Those had been his darkest moments.

But when Zevran had returned, showing up at the Vigil one day, as if he'd never left, Aedan had known it'd been worth it. His Crow had come back to him, without oaths binding him to Aedan's side, without Aedan begging or asking him to. Zevran had chosen Aedan of his own free will, and the warden promised himself he would never let him regret it.

Zevran was as free as any man could ever be, and Aedan wasn't ever going to change that about him.

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><p>Zevran lay curled up in Aedan's arms, while the warden leaned over him and sobbed. When the corruption had poured out of the Eluvian, Carver and Zevran had cried out in pain and dropped to the floor. Merrill and Christopher knelt next to Carver, while Anders and Fenris tried to talk to Aedan.<p>

"We have to have them attempt the Joining," Anders said gently. "Aedan, you have to listen to me, they're going to die."

Aedan had stripped off his gauntlets, and ran his hands over Zevran's face, as if he could keep back the rapidly encroaching taint just under his skin. "I… I can't do that to him… I can't take that choice from him… Maker… help me…" He pressed a kiss to Zevran's grey lips, and sobbed against his skin. "Too many choices taken from him in his life… I won't… He'd hate me."

Even if the others hadn't realized it yet, Fenris knew this was why Cato had needed the Grey Wardens to make this trek. Maybe he'd been speaking the truth about time being a factor, but Fenris knew that the Black Divine had been aware of what was on the other side of the Eluvian.

He glanced behind him to Christopher. If Aedan wasn't going to do something, then Fenris would. "Chris, go and get Helena, tell her we have two people that need the Joining."

"I'll go," Merrill said. "Christopher needs to keep healing Carver. His spells are keeping him from succumbing as quickly as he would." She got to her feet and darted out the door.

"No!" Aedan jerked his head up, his face twisted in anguish "I told you… He'd hate me for it. If I took this choice away from him, he'd—"

Fenris did something he'd wanted to do for a long time. Something that Aedan had done often enough in the past, when Fenris wouldn't listen to reason. He drew his fist back, still covered in his gauntlet, and slammed it into Aedan's jaw. The First Warden's head snapped to the side, and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, shit," Anders muttered, before Aedan growled and lunged at Fenris. The two men went down to the floor, their fists flying. Fenris' nose broke when Aedan landed a solid punch, blood gushing down his face and into the back of his throat.

"You're being foolish," Fenris hissed. "He won't thank you for letting him die." He was crushed under Aedan's massive weight, and only his armor saved him from his ribs cracking from the pressure.

"You don't understand!" Aedan cried. He threw another punch, but Fenris caught his fist in between his hands.

"I understand better than you think, Cousland." Fenris turned his head to the side and spat blood. "And as admirable as it is that you don't want to curtail his freedom, this is taking it too far. Think! Zev would want to live."

Aedan lowered his arm, and rolled off of Fenris to sprawl out on the floor. He covered his face with his hands. "Oh, Maker… If he dies… If he…"

"Cato knew of this," Fenris snarled. "He knew, and he didn't warn us. I hope he shows his face in Weisshaupt, just so I can rip it from his shoulders."

"I think he was going to," Christopher pointed out. His hands hovered over Carver, and Fenris could feel his magic fill the room. "Things just went out of control too quickly for him to finish."

Even though that might be true, Fenris was reluctant to let go of his anger. If Carver died, he wasn't ever going to forgive himself for not listening to the templar. How would he ever face Marian again?

The door burst open, and Helena and Merrill rushed into the room. Helena was a deceptively small woman, with dark brown hair. Her blue eyes were overly large on her face, and if one saw her from a distance, you would mistake her for a child. It was only up close that you saw her heavily muscled arms, and the steel in her spine. No one would ever think she was a dwarf, but Fenris was convinced if it was possible, there was at least one in her ancestry.

She took in the scene without comment, and knelt down next to Carver first. Merrill and Christopher helped her to tip the contents of the Joining cup passed his lips. Carver's body jerked, his legs twitching, and then he went deathly still.

Fenris released the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding when Carver abruptly sat up, his eyes wide. "Fuck me…" he muttered before falling back down to the floor.

Aedan had crawled over to Zevran and had his head in his lap. His face was bloody and bruised, and some of his knuckles had split on his right hand. Fenris was sure he didn't look any better. He brushed Zevran's hair out of his face, and angled him so that Helena could get to him easier. She paused, the cup held just in front of the assassin's lips.

"Do it," Aedan said. "Do it, and may he forgive me for it."

Helena gave him a short nod, and gently poured some of the blood into the elf's mouth. Zevran swallowed out of reflex, while Aedan's eyes were riveted on his face.

"Come on, Zev. If you wake up, I promise I'll fuck the shit out of you for days," Aedan whispered, heedless of who could hear him. It was a testament to Helena's dedication to Aedan, that she didn't even bat an eyelash at his words.

In his periphery, Fenris could see that Carver was sitting up now, but his head was buried in his trembling hands. Zevran's eyes snapped open, and he gasped in a lungful of air. His hands flailed and he grabbed onto Aedan's shoulders.

"For days, my warden?" the elf rasped. Aedan pressed a kiss to Zevran's lips, his shoulders shaking from laughter and relief.

Anders sank down to the floor next to Fenris. He gently turned the elf's face towards him, and a trickle of healing magic washed over him. "This is going to hurt, love." He pinched the broken bridge of Fenris' nose and snapped it back into place. Fenris' hands jerked from the pain, but it was brief.

Both Carver and Zevran were helped to their feet. Carver was a bit more unsteady than the elf was, and Merrill and Christopher helped bolster him. With a few muttered words of thanks, Aedan dismissed Helena with instructions to let no one near the room.

As soon as the door shut behind her, everyone began talking at once. Their voices of fear and anger clamored over each other, until Fenris couldn't think above the din. His brands flared in agitation and the room swiftly fell silent, everyone's eyes turning towards him.

"We should smash the mirror," Fenris said. "We got lucky this time, but who knows—"

"No." Aedan bent down and picked up his gauntlets from the floor. He casually slipped them back on. "We go as planned."

"Are you insane?" Fenris asked. "Zev and Carver almost died. We're fortunate that they didn't. Even if we are still going, they need time to recover."

"Do they?" Aedan glanced at Zevran, then at Carver.

The assassin smiled up at Aedan. "I like to know what tries to kill me, yes? I've been through worse."

Carver pushed away from Merrill and Christopher. "How can you be so accepting of this? Sure, I'm alive, but I don't want to be a fucking warden. If I did, I would have run off to join them instead of the templars. I was making a name for myself, rising up in the ranks." He absently touched the Sword of Mercy on his breastplate. "That's gone now. That's…" He turned away from them, his hands clenched at his sides. "Fine. I just hope it's worth it."

When Anders went to go and heal Aedan, Fenris walked over to Carver and touched him on the shoulder. Even though he couldn't feel it through his armor, Carver flinched just the same. He turned his head so he could see Fenris. "You know what being a templar meant to me. I just can't accept it. I can't…"

Fenris knew. He knew better than anyone else. Carver had come to him in Kirkwall, and they had talked about his decision over bottles of wine. Carver had always felt that he'd been in both of his sisters' shadow, never really able to make a name for himself. The city guard had been out of the question. That was Aveline's domain, and Carver didn't trust his sister to not interfere and let him stand on his own. He hadn't liked the uncertainty of being a mercenary. He'd spent his whole life drifting from one safe harbor to another, and had wanted to settle down in one place. With his skills, that had left the templars. Carver had seen how blood mages had run rampant in Kirkwall, and had wanted to do some good.

Now it had been taken from him, snatched away in a moment no longer than a heartbeat.

Fenris wasn't any good at comforting people, so he spoke from his own experience. "I know what you're feeling right now. But this might not be as terrible as you think. You're alive, and are now able to fight something much more dangerous than blood mages and abominations. You'd become unhappy in Kirkwall anyway, don't deny it."

Carver glanced away. He _couldn't_ deny it. He had written to Fenris often over the past few years, complaining that Marian had been telling Cullen to keep Carver in the Gallows and away from any real danger. It had enraged Carver, that his sister's misplaced fear was encroaching on how he lived his life. It was why he'd volunteered to willingly to come to Weisshaupt with Fenris. He'd needed to get away.

Shaking his head, Carver sighed. "You're right. I just… I just need time to think."

"You better think quickly," Fenris said. "Aedan's angry now."

"And you aren't?"

The smile he gave Carver was feral. "I am… Make no mistake." 

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><p>AN: So I have been planning on this happening for a while. If you play through the dalish origin in DA:O Tamlen talks about seeing a city underground before the Blight comes pouring out.

For those curious, yes, Carver got the most votes for Nate. On here and on AO3.


	75. Chapter 75

Sorry for the delay. There's a side fic for this story up on AO3 now, plus I started a ME2/DA2 crossover. It's posted on my tumblr.

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><p>Not only was Arlathan underground, but the city had been sunk into part of the Deep Roads. Fenris took his hand off the Eluvian and banked his power. All three mages had tapped their staves against the ground, illuminating the cavern they found themselves in with three glowing balls of light.<p>

"Maker, preserve us," Carver whispered in awe.

"Looks like he preserved everything," Fenris replied. The light spells had chased the shadows back, forcing them to retreat from the crumbling ruins that had once been the Deep Roads.

It also reflected off of the barrier in front of them. it shimmered with iridescent light, almost like a rainbow colored soap bubble. The myriad colors shifted and swirled. Fenris couldn't count how many moved across the barrier's surface. But the barrier wasn't what had the wardens moving slowly towards it to get a better look.

It was what was on the other side.

Giant trees arched upwards, their branches and leaves creating a canopy. Green grass spread across the ground, stopping right at the barrier's edge. Fenris could just make out a stone path that cut through the trees. When he looked up he could see Arlathan. The light spells didn't reach far enough, but Fenris could still see the soaring towers of the city.

Fenris saw Anders reach out and his fingers hovered over the barrier. Fenris snatched at his wrist, and stopped him when he had been a hair's breadth from touching it. "Don't. we don't know what this is," he warned.

"No, love… I think we know exactly what this is," Anders whispered. "They tried to save themselves…"

"There's more to it than that," Christopher said. "There's no sun here, no light. How did all this vegetation survive?"

"It's sleeping," Merrill said. "Arlathan is sleeping. Can't you feel it?"

"I feel something," Anders said wryly. "Like a lot of darkspawn."

Fenris drew his sword from his back, and took a step away from the barrier. "They're coming closer." His head snapped from the left and to the right as he tried to pinpoint where the darkspawn were coming from. The cavern had only three entrances, and one of them was blocked by the barrier. "Aedan…"

"Shit…" Aedan strapped his shield to his arm and unsheathed his sword. "Not good. I can't tell where they're coming from. There's too many of them."

"How many is too many?" Christopher asked. He and Merrill moved so that their backs were against a wall.

"Remember when Corypheus gathered all those darkspawn?" Aedan jerked his head at Carver, and he moved to stand in front of the mages, the hilt of his greatsword in both hands.

"Oh, shit," Christopher cursed. "That many?"

Without being told to, Zevran slipped into the shadows and disappeared.

"No," Fenris said grimly. "More."

"Aedan," Anders called out. "Now would be a good time to leave and get more wardens. If even you can't tell where they're coming from…" He didn't need to finish the sentence. They all knew what it meant. Aedan had joined during a Blight. He had seen the Horde and fought an Archdemon. If even he couldn't pinpoint where the darkspawn were…

"Fuck!" Aedan shouted. "What else is going to go wrong?"

"Don't say that, please," Anders begged. "I thought you knew better than that by now."

"He never listens to good advice."

As one, the wardens turned their heads to the sound of the voice. A woman stood on the other side of the barrier. She had long black hair that was pulled high on the back of her head, and her eyes… Fenris had seen eyes light that in night creatures. They were golden, and seemed to peer right through Aedan. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and it pushed her breasts together. Not that she seemed to mind. Her top was nothing more than dark red cloth that was looped around her neck so that it draped in front, barely covering her.

Fenris didn't like the condescending look she was giving Aedan.

"I tell him never to look for me and he does-twice now," she said. "Aedan shows a remarkable lack of good sense."

Aedan strode towards the barrier, his face thunderous. "Did you seriously expect that I would give up?"

"I gave you a chance to come with me, you declined. That's on your head, not mine."

"I had duties, Morrigan," Aedan shouted. "I couldn't just abandon them because you decided you had to leave."

She rolled her eyes. "Ah, yes, your duties. Is the world a better place now? Have you conquered all evil in Thedas? No? Then I believe your duties didn't have the import you assigned them. The world is full of those that would do anything for power. Nothing you can do will ever change that. You never understood that."

"so your solution was better? To hide here and do what?" Aedan curled his lip. "I couldn't do that. I'm not the pessimist you are."

"I am a realist," she shot back. "Until I could determine what my mother's plans were, I wasn;t going to let her find me easily. I hold no grudge against you for not coming with me when I offered. But do not blame me for the decisions _you_ made. I have more than myself to think of now. Just as you had someone to think of when you made your decision."

Zevran melted out of the shadows, his daggers in his fists. "Morrigan… I see you still have a wonderfully sharp tongue. Why not let us through that lovely barrier, hm? We can all reminisce away from the darkspawn."

"My, my…" Morrigan tilted her head to the side. "So you're still with him… I must confess I'm surprised. I thought you would have flitted off years ago."

Zevran gave her a short bow. "I am full of surprises, no?"

Just at the edge of Fenris' consciousness, the darkspawn presence grew stronger. It was a scrabbling, clawing sensation, and it set his teeth on edge. "we do not have time for this. If the witch will not let us in, we must leave."

Morrigan's eyes snapped to Fenris. "Witch? You speak as if you know me, but you do not. I am sure I would have remembered you. Only the ignorant name me so."

"I call you a witch because that is what you are," Fenris growled. "You perform dark rituals and trap the souls of Tevinter gods in children. Your own mother is a bitch in dragon form that speaks riddles, and plays with lives."

Morrigan's eyebrows shot up. "Souls? I only recall the once. And if you've had dealings with my mother, then I can see where you got the idea of what I am like. You…" Her voice stuttered to a halt, and she drew closer to the barrier.

"Aedan, how did you get here?" She ran her eyes over Fenris, and a shiver of apprehension went down his spine. Her gaze zeroed in on the markings on his chin and throat.

"I got here the same way you did, through an Eluvian," Aedan said curtly.

Without any preamble, Morrigan touched the barrier, and drew her finger along its surface. She took a step back, drawing her hand slowly away as she moved. A section of the barrier parted away like a curtain. "Hurry. I can't leave it open for long."

Merrill of all people was the first to pass through the opening. In hindsight, Fenris shouldn't have been surprised. She'd been waiting for an opportunity like this for most of her life. She had no fear when it came to the elvhen and their magic.

The others followed, and when Anders moved to walk through, Fenris grabbed his wrist. "Wait…"

Morrigan gave him an irritated look. "yes, let's just keep the barrier open so that the corruption can seep in. That's a lovely idea."

Anders leaned down and whispered into Fenris' ear. "I'm with you, love, whatever happens."

Slipping his fingers down Anders' hand, he threaded their fingers together. "All right, but if the witch makes one wrong move, I'm taking her heart."

Morrigan laughed. "Oh, Aedan, you do find the drollest people."

* * *

><p>Anders was worried about Fenris. He had silently held onto Anders' hand the whole trek to the city. Where Merrill and the others had exclaimed over this thing or that, Fenris had remained quiet, his eyes glued to Morrigan's back.<p>

As they had walked, light spells had gone off on either side of the path, illuminating the way ahead. When they had passed the balls of light, they had dimmed once more, before dissipating into darkness. Anders had seen the spell before, but only in Minrathous.

It had been horrifying in a way to see the origins of a spell he had thought so miraculous in Tevinter. Had none of the magic the magisters had been their own? Or had they stolen it, like they had stolen everything else they had? Of course they had, Anders knew his history. It had been the elvhen that had shown the ancient magisters how to use lyrium and enter the Fade in dreams.

When they entered through the front gates of the city, Anders squeezed Fenris' hand. Maker above and the Blight below… It was beautiful. Like on the path, light spells flared to life as they walked down an empty street—or what was presumably a street. It was more of a wide path of undying grass that ran straight and branched off in various directions. Flowers that Anders had never seen before, not even in books, lined the street. Some of them actually glowed with their own colorful luminescence. There were little in the way of small homes. What was there were massive structures, with tall spires.

"Oh, Maker…" Anders tilted his head back and looked up. Where Tevinter was made out of gold and marble, Arlathan was built from wood that looked as hard as stone and lyrium. It was everywhere, a fortune's worth. One could spend several lifetimes taking all of the lyrium that went into the city, and still never see the end of it.

No one said a word, and even Merrill had gone silent. Every so often they would come across large statues set in the middle of the street at intersections. Anders knew who some of the depictions were, but not all of them. Most were of the gods that the dalish still worshiped. Merrill reached out and trailed her fingers along a statue of the goddess Mythal, the Protector.

It was eerie, this empty, beautiful city. Sadness washed over Anders for what the elves had lost. This should have been theirs, but instead, they had slavery and drudgery, or life as wanderers.

Anders saw something move in the shadows in his periphery, and he froze. Fenris stopped as well, his eyes darting to the shadows.

"Aedan…" Anders whispered. Then louder, "Aedan! We aren't alone."

Fenris still had his sword in his free hand, and he held it in front of him, using his other to pull Anders behind him. Anders had a moment to be both flattered that Fenris wanted to protect him, and a little irritated. When they got back, he was going to make Fenris buy him a sword, one he could use instead of his staff.

Morrigan turned to face them. "Ignore them. They won't harm you if you leave them alone."

"Who's they?" Carver demanded.

Morrigan sighed. "Really, another templar, Aedan? At least this one is a little less irritating."

Anders noticed she hadn't answered Carver's question. "Who's they? I wouldn't mind knowing what creepy crawling thing is in the shadows. Just, you know, for nightmare material."

"Ah!" Morrigan snapped her fingers. "I see. You already have someone who speaks liked he was hit on his head too many times."

If it wasn't for his grip on Fenris' hand, the elf would have lunged for Morrigan. As it was, he yanked on Anders' arm when he took a step towards her. "You'll hold your tongue, witch. Or I'll remove it myself."

Raising her arm high above her head, Morrigan narrowed her eyes at Fenris. "You wish to see what resides in Arlathan? Then I will show you." She spoke a word that-to Anders-sounded elvish. Every light spell in the city went off at once, and Anders shielded his eyes. He heard the others cry out, and he knew they were doing the same. It was as if the sun had come down on them, but without any heat. Anders opened his eyes and lowered his hand. Spots of green and purple danced in his vision, and he blinked a few times to get use to the light.

Then he wished he hadn't.

A high dragon weaved around the buildings to their left, rubbing its scales against the wood. It turned its horned head towards them, and its tongue flickered out like a snake before moving on. On their right, a pride demon stomped down a side street and then out of view, while above them…

"Are those…" Anders didn't think his voice had come out more than an inaudible whisper, but Aedan had heard him anyway and answered.

"Griffins… Those are griffins."

Arlathan was alight as if it was under a noonday sun, and now every beast and creature in the city had woken up.


	76. Chapter 76

Thanks for reading everyone!

A/N: Lots of revelations in the next few chapters as everything comes together.

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><p>Fenris had grown in the years that Anders and he had been together. Many things had shaped him into the man he was today. He had learned a tolerance for mages, and even a liking for a few. He no longer cringed visibly when Anders spoke of mage rights. He had killed his former master, and found out in part why he had been created. Before she had left, he and his sister had forged a new and tentative bond. Through her, he had discovered the man he had once been. He had friends now, people that he had opened up to and shared his life with. They were as loyal to him as he was to them.<p>

Yes, Fenris had changed, but through it all he was still Fenris.

"You blood mage bitch!" Fenris shouted. He ripped his hand free from Anders, and rushed at Morrigan. "I knew we shouldn't have trusted you." His brands reacted to his rage, and he was enveloped in a blue light, his sword raised high.

Several things happened at once. Merrill screamed in horror,and Anders shouted Fenris' name. Carver and Christopher moved as one, running towards Fenris to stop him. To Fenris' rage, Aedan and Zevran stepped in front of the witch, protecting her.

Morrigan just laughed.

She spoke a word and lowered her arms. The lights in the city went out, and plunged them back into darkness. Fenris lowered his sword and banked his power, but couldn't stop his momentum, and slammed into the solid wall that was Aedan in full plate. The two men went down to the ground, and Fenris wondered fleetingly if he and Aedan were destined to spend the rest of their lives on the ground and fighting each other-they did that entirely too much. He knew what that Zevran would say it was because they had some sort of unresolved sexual tension. Anders said that it was because they were too much alike, so of course they would be always fighting and arguing.

None of that mattered when Aedan's weight crushed him into the ground for the second time in as many hours. Fenris heard his sword clatter to the ground as it fell from his fingers. He could see nothing in the dark, and it was disorienting. Aedan's weight was abruptly lifted off of him, and several pairs of hands groped over Fenris and pulled him to his feet.

People were talking rapidly around him, and Fenris smelled the scent of elfroot. His hands latched onto am arm around his waist, and his fingers met with the familiar weave of Anders' robes. With a thought, the lyrium under his skin lit. He glanced over his shoulder to see Anders' startled eyes.

"Love, have we ever talked about your temper?" Anders asked softly.

"Several times," Fenris replied. "So let me save you the trouble, and say that I will kill her if she does something like that again, don't ask me to remain calm."

The light spells on either side of the road lit as they had before Morrigan's stunt. Off to the side, he could see Aedan and Morrigan in a whispered, but heated, argument.

Carver walked over to Fernis, the elf's sword in his hands. He held it out for Fenris to take, hilt first. "She does it again, and I'll show her why being addicted to lyrium is worth it to a templar."

Fenris saw Anders open his mouth, and the mage snapped it shut. There were times to debate a templar's talents-when you were in the presence of a witch was not one of them.

"I don't understand any of this," Merrill said. She chewed on her bottom lip, lost in thought. "This place, it's what I'd always dreamed it would be, but there's something wrong here. I can feel it. Why isn't anything attacking us?"

"Maybe we shouldn't question why we aren't being attacked," Anders said. "I like not being attacked."

"She's right." Christopher stood at Merrill's back, his staff in his hands. His eyes darted around, and his head turned every time they heard a new sound. "When was the last time you heard of a High Dragon that didn't attack when it saw fresh meat? Or a pride demon that just moved on?"

"This place is dead." Fenris balanced the flat of his blade on his shoulder. "It just doesn't know it yet."

"Then how do you explain her?" Anders asked as he pointed to Morrigan. Zevran had joined in the argument, and his hands were gesturing wildly.

"She's Flemeth's daughter," Fenris said. "I'm not going to even bother explaining her. We can't trust her, that's all we need to know." The five wardens exchanged a look. "If she makes a move, we put her down, whether Aedan wants it or not. His judgment can't be trusted on this."

"Agreed," Carver said resolutely. Christopher nodded.

Merrill and Anders both looked conflicted. "I don't know about this, love." Anders rubbed at his beard stubble. "I agree we should defend ourselves, but…"

"But nothing, Anders," Fenris growled. "Could you easily kill the mother of your child? You know how Aedan is."

Merrill sighed. "She shouldn't even be here."

Fenris refrained from pointing out that _none_ of them should be there. "Anders?"

"Gah!" Anders threw up his hands. "All right, all right. I see your point. Let's just not jump to conclusions, okay? So she's a bitch, doesn't mean that she means us harm."

"You're right," Fenris agreed. "But we need to watch her, regardless."

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><p>The elvhen had no homes in a way anyone else would know them. They were eternal and immortal. They spent their nights dreaming and shaping the Fade, while their days were dedicated to understanding the world around them. The elvhen knew more about Thedas and her secrets than any other. It was they who had taught the first humans how to use lyrium to tap into the Fade. They traded knowledge with the humans, teaching this young race what little they were capable of understanding. In return, they got to see a race whose lives were fleeting, and easily snuffed out. The elvhen had felt pity for the humans.<p>

Until they too began to quicken and die.

When the elvhen realized that their lifespans were shortening, and that contact with the humans were to blame, they closed off their borders. This angered the humans, most especially the Tevinter Imperium. Tevinter had profited the most from contact with the elvhen. The magisters had become powerful under their tutelage, and they in turn used that power against the elvhen.

War was declared, and it reigned for six long years. During that time, Tevinter conquered every settlement they came across, human and elvhen alike. With each victory, their power grew. They used the magic they had been taught, twisting it for their own purposes until almost nothing was left of the harmonious magic that it had once been.

Demons poured through tears in the Veil, and pacts were made in blood and death. Tevinter worshipped false gods, who taught them the ways of blood magic. Creatures that had once lived harmoniously with the elvhen were driven mad, and turned on them. Dragons burned whole forests, and ancient creatures had run rampant, killing indiscriminately.

This was known as the Time of Madness.

The world was ending, and the elvhen were dying. Never having had to seriously consider their own mortality, the elvhen did something drastic. On the day that the center of their culture and learning was sunk into the ground, swallowed and betrayed by the very earth they had sworn to protect, they had cast a spell and damned them all.

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><p>The large building in the center of the city was many things. It was an amphitheater, a library, a place where those that lived in the city convene to discuss the world around them. It was a huge circular room, with stairs that led up to several levels. It was completely open, with no place to hide. The ground floor in the center was recessed, and if you looked up you could easily see the levels above you.<p>

Everything in elvhen society was shared and on display. Knowledge, crafts, love, anger, it was for everyone to take part in. The elvhen were a part of the world they lived in, they didn't see a need to hide from it-until the humans came.

Anders stood in the middle of the floor and looked up, and up, and up… There were statues of various elves placed at intervals against the walls. One floor was stacked with scrolls and books, and his fingers itched to run up there and dig through them.

Tilting his head back, he looked at the carvings on the domed ceiling. It was a massive depiction of the elven pantheon. The gods were warring with faceless creatures, and in between the two armies, was a lone wolf.

_The wolf doesn't have to always be alone_, he thought.

The others were milling about, but none of them wandered far from each other. Morrigan had been silent as she had led them inside. She had asked them to wait and then climbed the stairs. Anders turned his head, tracking her ascent. She had gone up four floors already, and had just reached the fifth.

He glanced at Aedan. He understood what Fenris and the others were saying, but he trusted Aedan, he always had. He might be misguided at times, but in the end he always did what was right—even if no one else liked it.

Merrill had walked over to one of the statues, and she let out a little shriek of surprise. Anders' head swiveled in her direction, and Christopher came running over to her. Merrill clapped her hands over her mouth, and her eyes were wide in horror.

Everyone converged on her at once. Merrill's shoulders were shaking, and she began sobbing. She mumbled something into her hands, and Christopher shook his head. "I can't understand you, what did you say?"

She lowered her hands to point at the statue, and her finger shook. "That… That's not a statue."

"What?" Anders blinked and took a step towards it. Fenris snagged the back of his robes and stopped him.

"Wait. We don't know—"

"Shit," Aedan muttered. He had his face inches away from the statue's. "She's right. I think… I think it's an elf."

Carver wasn't one to hesitate, so he walked over to it and touched its cheek. "Maker above," he breathed. He held up his finger, and then touched it to his tongue. "That's lyrium. But it's… It's been sapped. It's become nothing more than dust. I can still taste traces of magic in it, though."

"Are you sure?" Anders asked.

Carver gave him a look. "I've become an expert when if comes to lyrium over the past several years. So yes, I'm sure."

Emboldened now that Carver had touched it, Merrill strode forward and stopped right in front of the elvhen. She wiped her hands over it, brushing the thick layer of dust away. She was almost as covered in the dust as it had once been by the time she was done.

"It's a woman…" Zevran said. It was a blonde haired female, with pale skin and dressed in ancient armor. "And… do you see… on her throat?"

Silver lines of lyrium were embedded just under her skin.

Fenris let go of Anders and pushed forward. His fingers hovered just above the woman's skin, but he yanked his hand back and shook his head. "No… Why would… I don't…" He took a step away from her, then another, shaking his head in denial. "The ritual was excruciating for me, why would anyone do that? Why would she…"

Anders' heart ached for Fenris. Cato had told them that the ritual had been elvhen in origin, but to actually see it… He reached out and placed his hand on the back of Fenris' neck, giving him comfort, and letting him know he was there.

"They're all like that," Morrigan called.

Anders turned to see her making her way down the last flight of stairs to reach them. In her arms, she had a large, blanket wrapped bundle. "There are hundreds of them here, and in every building in the city."

Aedan's hands had clenched into fists, and Anders could see the tension in his face. "Is that…"

"Yes, yes," Morrigan said dismissively. "He just woke up so he's a little groggy." She pulled back the blanket to reveal the large blinking eyes of a small boy. Everyone in the room gasped except for Aedan, who took a tentative step forward. It was easy to tell who the boy was. He might have Morrigan's unnerving eyes, but the rest of his face, from his hawk like nose, to his shock of thick dark hair was undeniably Aedan.

The boy squirmed in Morrigan's arms and she rolled her eyes. "All right, you can get down. just don't run up the stairs. You know I hate it when you do that by yourself." She set him down on the floor and the blanket slipped away. He wore nothing but a cotton nightshirt that fell down past his knees, and his feet were bare.

"I…" Indecision warred on Aedan's face. He knelt down on the floor, and gave the boy a weak smile. "Hi, my name is Aedan, what's yours?"

The boy looked back at his mother, and shoved his index finger in his mouth. "Go on," Morrigan said. "He's not scary like the tall man, is he?"

He looked back, and pulled his fingers free with a pop. "Aedan."

"Yes, I'm Aedan," the commander said, pointing at himself. "What's your name?"

"Aedan."

"I know, so what is your na—"

"Oh, for the love of…" Morrigan sighed and crossed her arms. "Your name is Aedan. _His_ name is Aedan. I named him after you. Don't make a big deal out of it."

Zevran started laughing, and didn't even stop when Morrigan turned her glare on him.

"Wait," said Anders. "He's definitely Aedan's son, but why does he look like—"

"Like he's about two years old?" Morrigan finished for him. "It's why I came here. Time has stopped in Arlathan. Nothing ages, nothing changes. I am buying Aedan time until…" She stopped, and her face screwed up in annoyance. "I seem to be out of the habit of talking to others. I have said too much."

"Before the soul in him can consume him," Anders guessed. "Two souls can't share the same space. One will always devour the other."

Her eyes sharpened on him. "And how do you know this?"

Anders cleared his throat. "Lady, if anyone knows about how it feels to share their body with another, it's me." He felt a harsh yank on his sleeve, and he glanced down to see Fenris staring at him.

"Say it again," he demanded harshly.

"What? I just know how it is to share space. You know, with Justice trying to take over and…" He trailed off and glanced up. Everyone including the boy were staring at him now, each with various expressions of wonder and horror. Except for young Aedan, he just gave Anders a toothy grin.

"That's it," Fenris hissed. "That's why that bitch wanted me to save you so badly."

Anders held up his hands. "Now hold on there. I'm no expert. If any one of you will recall, I got very lucky. You lot did most of the work."

"What are you babbling about?" Morrigan crossed her arms, and tapped her foot in annoyance.

Anders tried not to quail under her glare. "I… I use to… I use to have…"

"He used to have a spirit inside him, one of Justice. It became corrupted, and we were forced to separate them," Fenris said. "He and the spirit survived."

Morrigan's arms slowly went lax at her sides. "Is this true?" She then directed her question to Aedan. "Is this true? What was done? Tell me! I have been searching for years, but haven't been able to find a solution without destroying them both."

"Mommy!" Aedan yelled. The child turned and ran for his mother, hiding behind her legs. "Tall man," he whimpered.

As one, they each turned towards the large entryway. Anders blinked, unable to believe what he was seeing. The Architect strode in, and stopped when he saw them.

"I should have known you would come one day, Aedan. I had hoped it would not be so soon."


	77. Chapter 77

Thanks for reading!

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><p>The wardens stared at the Architect incredulously, and he returned their gaze with one of his own. Morrigan… she began to laugh. "Oh! You should see the looks on your faces. This alone was worth letting everyone through the barrier."<p>

"Where's my sister!" Fenris cried. Aedan and Anders both grabbed him at the same time, holding him back.

"You know, love, I think we really need to reevaluate your tendency to attack people without asking questions first." Anders had his arms wrapped around Fenris' waist, and Aedan had a strong grip on the elf's shoulders. They penned Fenris in between them, but that didn't prevent Fenris from yelling and cursing at the Architect.

And at Anders.

"I did ask him a question first. Is your hearing going, mage?" Fenris snapped.

Anders looked startled. "Whoa! Hey now, there's no reason to get mad at me."

"I…" Fenris felt some of his rage drain out of him. How did Anders keep doing that to him? He would have thought by now, that he was immune to the little remarks that Anders would make in order to get Fenris to calm down.

Fenris was just sick of the whole thing. He was sick of everything. He felt like he was being corralled physically and emotionally, and not just by Aedan and Anders. He was being led along by the nose, and he was tired of going along with it. No one could tell Fenris that Flemeth didn't have a hand in this as well. Where she was concerned, there was no such thing as a coincidence.

Fenris felt insecure when he didn't have all the answers. It stemmed from his time as a slave, and never knowing what the next day, hour, minute would bring him. It made him angry, and more likely to lash out.

But it didn't seem to matter how hard he tried to run from whatever Flemeth had planned for him and the others. She had him cornered, and he was reluctant to give in.

"Your sister is safe. She is here with Utha and Seranni in the lab." The Architect moved closer to them.

"That's close enough," Carver called. He stepped forward and drew his sword. "I've met your kind before, and I know you can't be trusted."

The Architect paused and tilted his head to the side. "Have you now? Carver Hawke I presume?"

"How did—"

"Who else?" The Architect waved a negligent hand. "Corypheus said many things to me before he died. I know of how you freed him from his prison, only to erroneously assume you destroyed him."

"What are you doing here?" Aedan asked. He had let go of Fenris and turned to face the darkspawn.

"The same thing you are-looking for answers." The Architect held his arms out wide, encompassing the room. "Corypheus taunted me with the knowledge of my own being. I had originally come to Tevinter to look for answers, instead, I found this."

Aedan turned his head and gave Morrigan a look. "Oh, don't look at me like that." She rolled her eyes. "Our goals are similar. He wants answers to the Blight, and I want…" She trailed off.

"You want to save your son," Zevran finished. "But I do not understand why you think you will find any answers here."

"You were always purposefully obtuse," Morrigan grumbled. "All right, then if we are all done threatening to kill each other, I will tell you. Although you might not wish to hear it."

* * *

><p>The wardens each sat on the edge of the recessed center of the room, watching as Morrigan walked back and forth in the middle. Aedan had his son on his lap, and the boy was once more sleeping. Anders and Zevran both exchanged quick grins at the sight. Even though Zevran had expressed reservations about finding Aedan, the assassin would never say anything more now that they had.<p>

Fenris drummed his fingers against the stone floor, his claw tipped fingers clacking each time they struck. Anders gently laid his hand over Fenris', and pressed down. He felt Fenris' arm tense, and then relax before he turned his hand over palm up, and entwined their fingers.

"My mother," Morrigan began, "as some of you have surmised, is not human. I have only theories on what she actually is, but nothing solid. It took me years to realize the scope of her machinations, and once I did, I chose to forestall it as long as I could.

"I came here for many reasons, and I am starting to believe that she knew how I would react and planned on it. I was meant to come here, the same as all of you."

Fenris' patience was at an end, and he spoke up. "Stop speaking in circles and get to the point."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow at him. "My… You are an angry little elf, aren't you?"

Surprisingly, Fenris let it go, although Anders could feel the tension in his hand. "I will not rise to your bait, witch."

"And I will not rise to yours, elf. Your coming here changes things, and I must say what I know, and then decisions must be made."

When Fenris didn't say anything more, Morrigan nodded her head and continued on. "My mother has always been a practitioner of the old ways, of how she felt magic was supposed to be used, and not the way the Chantry dictates it. She wishes a return to this, but several things need to happen in order for her desires to come to fruition."

Dread began to build in the pit of Anders' stomach. "What… What are you talking about?"

"It's very simple," Morrigan replied. "She wishes wild magic to return to Thedas. She is tired of hiding, and wants to once more be able to roam freely. To do that, Arlathan must wake, and the elvhen rise. To do that, Tevinter must fall. To do that, the Chantry and the Circles must be abolished. In short, my mother wishes for things to return to the way they once were."

"That's insane," Carver cried. "She can't mean to think that it will work."

"Can't she? She has been maneuvering for this for far longer than any of us have been alive." Morrigan glanced at the Architect. "Well… some of us."

"But how could she accomplish what she wants?" Christopher asked. "Starting a war with Tevinter would be suicidal for any one nation. Exalted Marches have failed over the years."

"Any one nation," Fenris said softly, and everyone turned to look at him. "But not all of them combined. Not if, say, there was a man who was connected to them all in various, but binding ways." He glanced meaningfully at Aedan.

Carefully, Zevran explained what he, Anders and Fenris had discovered just days beforehand, but had kept to themselves. When he was done, Aedan stared at him with mingling expressions of shock and horror.

"I'm not that powerful," Aedan said. "Zev, you know that. I can't just snap my fingers and call everyone to war. Why would I even do that?"

"You blatantly ignore the power you have, my warden, because you would never abuse it. It still does not change that fact that it is yours to wield." Zevran picked up Aedan's hand and placed a soft kiss to the back of it. "I have tried to tell you these things for years, but you refuse to see the truth. I love that about you, but you need to open your eyes, yes?"

"That still doesn't change the fact that I would never do it," Aedan said stubbornly. Anders smiled to himself. Maker, he and Fenris were too much alike at times. "And why would I even try to destroy the Chantry and the Circles? That doesn't make sense either."

"You will have no choice," Morrigan declared. "As I am beginning to realize that I have had very little choice. Mother wishes things to go back to before Arlathan fell, to before the Tevinter listened to their false gods and stormed the so called Golden City."

"So called?" Carver scowled. "Now you're going to mock the Chantry?"

"Oh? I always mock the Chantry, but in this I state fact." Morrigan pointed at the Architect. "The magisters found nothing the Golden City, and turned it black. They were cursed, but perhaps not by this Maker."

"Then by who?" Carver asked snidely.

"That is the question. I believe it was the elvhen that punished the magisters, or at least, had a hand in it. It was their magic that allowed entry in the first place, and Tevinter retaliated. The Blights are caused because the magisters turned darkspawn, are compelled to seek out their gods who lied to them. They swarm out from the Deep Roads, blighting the land that they had coveted. In this, the elvhen had their revenge.

"The Golden City was found empty, because the Maker had long been away from it. Or… he had been locked away."

"Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf, tricked the gods and the Forgotten Ones, sealing them all away," Merrill intoned softly.

"Exactly." Morrigan nodded in approval. "Whether it is the Maker, or the Creators, the tale is still the same, is it not? The gods are no longer with us. I believe that whatever higher power that once resided in the Golden City, have long ago left it. I also believe that the elvhen knew exactly what would happen if the magisters stepped foot inside it. They were the first to roam the Fade in dreams, and they taught the magisters the trick of lyrium. How could they not know that to go into the Golden City was forbidden?"

She gestured at Fenris. "The elvhen once had warrior priests dedicated to Fen'Harel. They marked their bodies with lyrium tattoos to enable them to partially move through the Fade. The magisters used this knowledge to create their own warrior, but they didn't know the trick of it, so they caused much destruction and bloodshed. Elvhen rituals, elvhen gods, elvhen knowledge." She pointed straight down at the ground. "The answers to the Archdemons and the Blights are here. The answer to how I can save my son is here."

"And have you found these answers?" Christopher asked.

Morrigan folded her arms and looked away. The Architect answered for her. "Not yet. We have been stymied at every turn. There is something preventing us from succeeding. I have no memory of what I had been before, so I do not know if we are looking in the right place."

Anders sucked in an audible breath. The Architect's words rang in his ears, until everything else was drowned out.

_I have no memory of what I had been before._

"Anders?" Fenris' voice dimly penetrated the hammering of Anders' heart. He shot to his feet, and pulled his hand free from Fenris'.

Anders felt sick, and bile rose in his throat. He stumbled away from Fenris, and ignoring the concerned calls from the others, ran from the building.

* * *

><p>Anders fell to his knees in the near dark, and emptied the contents of his stomach on the grass. His fingers clawed into the dirt and his arms shook, while he stared wide eyed at the ground.<p>

Maker, above… He couldn't get the image out of his head. If Fenris hadn't been able to get away from Danarius, if he had been caught and his power used by the magisters at any time… Fuck… If they had succeeded, Fenris would be… He would have ended up like…

When the first sob escaped his lips, the rest that followed couldn't be held back. He hated them. he hated them all in a way he had never felt before. He had thought he'd known rage when it came to the Chantry and the templars, but it was nothing compared to what he felt now.

Gentle hands touched his chin and lifted his face. Anders felt the slight scratching of Fenris' gauntlets on his skin, but his lover was always so careful when he touched Anders with them on. Fenris had crouched down next to Anders, but when the mage launched himself at him with a cry, it knocked him back on his ass.

Anders' whole body shook as he cried into Fenris' neck, clutching him tightly. "I'm so sorry, love. I'm so sorry…" Anders muttered it over and over, sucking in great, gasping breaths.

Fenris turned his head and kissed Anders' hair. "What's wrong. Are you ill? What—"

"Have you ever wondered," Anders asked quietly, "what happened to the one that they used in the ritual? The one that they had bring them to the Golden City?"

"What…" Fenris' arms tightened around Anders. "The Architect… He doesn't remember who or what he is."

"And Corypheus does," Anders whispered. "Maker, how else to explain it?"

* * *

><p><em>The Golden City<em>

The slave dropped to his hands and knees, his body shaking from the pain. Long white hair fell around his face, obscuring his vision. He had done as the masters had asked, and brought them to where they had wanted to go.

_Now they will tell me who I am_, he thought. _Please, let them tell me._

He had been born only a few hours ago, amidst agony and blood. His first memory had been of the bodies, piled like kindling in one part of the square. The alter he had awoken on, had been soaked with blood—_he _had been soaked in blood. It still coated his naked form, and had turned the ends of his hair a grisly dark shade of red.

He glanced down his arms, and at the silver swirling lines that traveled along his body. The masters had told him how to use his power, and he'd done as he'd been bidden. But his skin was still on fire, and his brands burned, sending shards of pain down his body, until he had to grit his teeth against a cry of agony.

He could hear slipper covered feet moving on the floor near him, and he lifted his head and brushed his hair out of his face. "Tell me…" he croaked with a voice still raw from his screams of pain. "Tell me who I am."

Out of all of the masters, Corypheus was the only one that the slave knew by name, and that had been because he had been called so by another. He glanced down at the slave, and gave him a malevolent smile. "You are a tool. Rejoice that you are here to see this glorious moment."

The slave trembled in rage. "I had been given your word. Tell me my name."

Corypheus laughed, and the sound was hollow. "I do not make promises to slaves. Now be silent, and witness our triumph."

The slave could not take in where they were. It was as if his mind rebelled when it tried to focus on something. He could make out shapes enough to see that they were in some sort of structure, but beyond that, his vision was filled with gold. Blood began to drip out of his nose, and he glanced away, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

It was because he had shut his eyes that he did not see what happened next.

Screams filled the air, terrible screams that sounded like the death of millions in a single second. The slave slammed his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound.

It did not matter.

Just when he thought he would go insane from the cries, the sound abruptly stopped. lThe silence was deafening, and the slave at first thought that he had lost his hearing. It wasn't until he dropped his hands away, that he knew otherwise.

"What to do with him…" a voice muttered.

"He has entered where he should not. His punishment will be the same as the rest," another answered.

The slave opened his eyes, turning his head this way and that as he tried to discern where the voices were coming from. No one was there, not even the masters. He was alone.

"But it wasn't his fault," the first voice protested.

"No, he was only the architect of their downfall. An unwitting one, but he was with them, just the same. He cannot be allowed to roam free."

"Very well then… An unwitting architect he is."

The slave knew no more.

* * *

><p><em>Arlathan, present day.<em>

Fenris led Anders back to the others. Morrigan and Aedan were arguing, and didn't notice their return.

"We're just going to give her what she wants," Aedan said.

"If we cannot have one without the other, than that is the price I am willing to make," Morrigan shot back. "I thought better of you, Aedan. I have searched for years for another way, and this is all I have been able to come up with."

"You're asking me to make an impossible choice, Morrigan."

Anders cleared his throat. "Um… Something wrong?"

Aedan threw up his hands in frustration. "Thank the Maker. Maybe you can talk some sense into her, because I'm through with this."

"Me?" Anders pointed to himself.

"Well, you and Fenris," Aedan clarified.

"What does she wish of us?" Fenris said slowly. If it was something that made even Aedan hedge, then Fenris was sure he wasn't going to like it.

"I need Urthimiel separated from my son and sent back into the Fade where he belongs," Morrigan said. "To do that, I will need Arlathan freed from its prison."

"And what does this have to do with us?" Fenris' hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Time is stagnant here," Morrigan explained. "The creatures that had been trapped here when Tevinter attacked do not die. I know the tales say that the elvhen took them from the world, but that is not so. Only some of them were trapped. My son and I do not age. Even the taint within me has never progressed very far."

"Wait," Aedan said. "You're tainted?"

"Don't be foolish," Morrigan chided. "Of course I am. This place is set partially apart from the rest of the world and time. All around us, you have the Blight pouring into the Deep Roads—I believe the barrier around Arlathan is doing it. I could only protect Aedan, but not myself. It does not matter-I will join your stupid wardens, and be on my way once this is over."

"I reiterate," Fenris said through gritted teeth. "What does this have to do with us?"

"I need you to help take down the barrier and lift Arlathan from its prison. The lyrium brands under your skin are the only thing that can do it. Once done, Anders and I will enter the Fade and part Urthemiel from Aedan."

"When the elvhen awaken, we can ask them how the Blight was started," the Architect said. "They might be able to give me that answers that I seek."

"Or they could kill us all," Anders said. "They might not take to being awaken very well."

"And there is no other way to save the boy?" Fenris asked. He began to pace in front of Morrigan, his fingers tapping on his hip. "we will be giving Flemeth something that she desires. She has set her trap very neatly."

"Yes, she has," Morrigan agreed. "And there is no other way. Aedan has told me of what you did in order to free Anders. I seek the same for my son. It won't work if time is halted. It's why I have never attempted it before. I was there when Aedan sent Wynne into the Fade to save another boy from a possession."

Fenris stopped and opened his mouth to deny her, when he caught sight of Aedan. The boy was still sleeping, but this time he was in Merrill's lap. He was innocent in all of this, and Fenris could not punish him for that.

"Fine," he said flatly. "I can only hope we do not regret this."

"Hold on a moment," Carver said. "If time is stagnant here, then does that mean it moves slower or quicker than outside the barrier?"

"Both and neither," the Architect replied. "It is like the Fade in that regard. Days could pass outside the barrier and it could only seem like hours to us."

"You are telling us that time is moving on at a different rate, yes?" Zevran asked.

"Exactly," Morrigan gave Zevran a surprised look. "Why you bother acting the idiot most of the time, I will never know. In the time you have been here, it could either be seconds outside the barrier, or days. You will not know until you leave."


	78. Chapter 78

Thanks to everyone that has been reading and enjoying!

A/N: Long chapter is long.

* * *

><p>Carver wasn't a warden.<p>

He didn't see himself as one—how could he? He had only survived the Joining a mere few hours ago, or days-or years. Fuck, he hated this. The others were ignoring the obvious, and it was going to be up to him to do his duty and see it out. The mages and the witch were certainly not going to see reason. Merrill had always been blind when it had come to the darker side of magic. He'd even once loved that about her—that naivety.

She'd always been so innocent, so earnest in what she was doing, even if it was the wrong thing. Her drive to prove her clan wrong about her had drawn him in. He had understood it, and had felt that same drive almost every day of his life. He'd known what it was to be marginalized. But when she had left, Carver had begun to see that his love for her had not been what he'd thought it was. When she'd entered the Gallows, Carver had made it his mission to look out for her, and made sure that she did nothing that would cause the templars to want to kill her or make her Tranquil.

That had been just brilliant. Not only had she not needed his help, she's laughed and hugged him when he had told her that he loved her. She honestly had never thought of him that way, and it hadn't occurred to her that he meant anything more than a friend.

That had been a blow to his pride.

What had happened to he and Fenris, though, that was on Carver, and he knew it. He had known that Fenris would see him as nothing more than a friend and one time lover, but he had secretly hoped otherwise. When Fenris had disappeared with Anders, well… that had told Carver all he'd needed to know. He and Fenris were still friends, and had written to each other frequently through the years, but it was different now. There was a barrier between them, and his name was Anders. Not that the mage cared if Fenris and Carver still spoke, but Carver could feel all the things that Fenris didn't say anymore, and that Carver was sure he was telling Anders. Their little club of two had been dissolved without fanfare or warning. Just one day… gone.

All right, so Carver could admit to himself that he was a bit lonely and pathetic, but he would be damned if he ever said as much to another.

Carver drew his sword and rested the tip on the floor, his hands folded over the pommel. Aedan wasn't going to like what he had to say either. Fuck him. Carver knew the dangers of what they were about to attempt better than they thought.

He cleared his throat loud enough to garner everyone's attention. "I think we're missing something crucial."

The mages had been spreading out candles, and Morrigan had been busy drawing lines into the stone with charcoal when they stopped. "I don't think a templar should be speaking of things he has no knowledge of," Morrigan said. "In fact, it would be best if you said nothing at all."

Carver didn't miss the way she refused to meet his eyes. _She knows…_ he thought. _She knows what I'm going to say._

He continued on as if she hadn't said a word. "Someone needs to watch over the mages and the boy while they're in the Fade. In case—"

"Stop!" Morrigan straightened and clenched her hand, crushing the charcoal in her fist. "Do not dare to speak further. It will not be necessary."

Carver's lips thinned in anger. "You're lying, and you're only going to make this harder than it needs to be."

"What is talking about?" Merrill asked. "Chris, what are they talking about?"

Christopher's eyes darted back and forth between Morrigan and Carver. "I… Shit…"

"He means to take up his duty as a templar and watch over the ones that will be in the Fade," Fenris said. He crossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes in rage at Carver. Carver returned the stare, and didn't flinch. Let Fenris be angry with him for this. He would do the same in Carver's place, and the elf knew it.

Anders shook his head. "No. No, no, no. You aren't doing that. I've already experienced a templar holding a sword to my throat while they put a demon inside me. I'm not going to stand for it a second time."

Carver held his ground. "This isn't up for debate. If something goes wrong, I'm going to take action. You can't expect me to stand idly by. I've stood vigil at my fair share of Harrowings, and I've had to do my duty more times than I can count. This is no different."

"He's just a boy!" Anders pointed at Aedan. "You would seriously behead a boy if we fail, or me? What in the Void, Carver? Did the Joining rattle your mind?"

"No, in fact, it has made things crystal clear." Carver's jaw set in stubborn lines. "If you wardens will not watch over yourselves, then I will do it for you. Some of you might mock the Chantry and the templars, but I know what is right. Allowing something to escape using one of you is not it. You are going to be playing with magic that might have started the fucking Blights, and yet you call my intelligence into question when I point that out? I'm use to not being listened to by now-by all of you, and by my own family-and frankly, I don't give a fuck anymore. Do what you wish, but don't tell me I cannot stand guard, and do the hard thing when none of you are willing to face it."

With each word Carver's voice rose, until it echoed loudly in the massive chamber. When he was done, no one would meet his eyes, not even Fenris. They knew he was speaking nothing but the truth. Maker, help him, how did the Grey Wardens survive for so long doing such reckless things? He gave himself a mental shake of the head. That was the point-they didn't. Shit… What had he gotten himself into?

Aedan had been quiet while Carver had spoken, and Carver glanced over at him. The two men stared each other down, and Carver fought not to quail under the First Warden's gaze. A wild thought raced across his mind, and made his resolve falter.

_Aedan Cousland killed an Archdemon, and I just threatened to behead his kid. Oh, shit..._

"I'll stand with you," Aedan finally said. "You do not touch Aedan, understood?"

Carver nodded and breathed a mental sigh of relief, one that lasted only for a few seconds when Fenris walked up to him. Carver steeled himself as the elf approached and stopped in front of him.

"And you will not touch Anders." Fenris' voice was so quiet, that Carver had to strain to hear him. But he couldn't miss the deadly intent behind those words. "I promised Anders that I would never allow him to be taken by a demon again. It is not your right to see to him, but mine."

"Could you do it?" Carver asked, and his eyes bored into Fenris'. "Ask yourself honestly. Could you do it?"

Fenris didn't even blink. "Yes," he said flatly. "I won't have Anders suffering. He knows that and expects it of me. If he returns possessed and there is no way to separate him and the demon, or if he comes back Tranquil, then I will take care of him."

Fenris stood so close to Carver, that he blocked Carver from the view of the others. For a moment, Carver's face turned wistful. "So that's what it's like to be loved by you. I have always wondered…"

Fenris looked taken aback. "Carver… I didn't kno—"

"Don't," Carver whispered. "Don't pity me. You know I hate that."

Nodding, Fenris turned and walked back to Merrill. Carver let out a breath and closed his eyes as he tried to compose himself. Fuck… He hadn't meant to say that. Could he possibly be any more pathetic?

* * *

><p>Anders watched as Fenris and Carver spoke. He couldn't hear what they were saying, and to be entirely honest, he was really trying. Whereas Fenris could become outwardly jealous, Anders was a bit more internal. He knew he shouldn't begrudge their friendship-after all Carver was there first—and he didn't, not really. But there were still some residual jealousy from years before that he hadn't quite worked through yet. He had been acutely aware when he had been living in Kirkwall, just how close Fenris and Carver had been. Now that he knew they had fucked at least once, bringing his worst imaginings to life, things had become a bit harder.<p>

_Get over yourself, Anders_, he told himself. _Fenris is allowed to have fucked people before you. He's also allowed to still be friends with him. You're the one he came across Thedas to save._ _Besides, it's lovable, grumpy Carver. You know they more than likely got drunk every night, and complained about mages until the wee hours of the morning. I wonder if they had a brood off who would win. _ He glanced at Fenris as the elf walked away, then back to Carver. _It was probably a tie. Now I think Carver would win._

* * *

><p>Fenris climbed yet more stairs and paused, glancing down below him. The others were in their places on the ground floor, and each one of them had their heads craned back to watch his progress. Before Fenris had placed even one foot on the first stair, he had grabbed Anders by the back of the head, and pulled him down for a searing kiss. He hadn't cared who was watching them. Anders' arms had wrapped around Fenris' waist, and pulled the elf close as the kiss had deepened. They each had put everything into that kiss, telling the other to be careful, and to come out at the end of this alive.<p>

Fenris turned away from Anders' worried stare and continued his climb. This building was at the center of the city, and where the elvhen had kept most of their knowledge. The carved mural that stretched across the ceiling was made out of a large block of lyrium. Morrigan had told him that she thought if he could tap into it, he might find a way to raise the city and bring down the barrier.

How exactly that was going to work, was up for debate.

He'd had only a brief moment to see his sister before it was time to begin. She had changed so much in the years she'd been gone. The taint had spread through her body, and Fenris hadn't recognized her at first. How long would it be before she became like Utha? Fenris clenched his hands into fists and thrust the thought away. One thing at a time.

The higher he rose up the stairs, the more cluttered they became. At times he had to pause and move piles of scrolls out of the way before he could continue on. He didn't stop on any of the floors that the stairs led to, instead he climbed up the winding staircase, and tried to not look at the elvhen standing against the walls.

Morrigan had been right-there were hundreds of them here. Every one of them were frozen still, and Fenris kept expecting one to open their lyrium dust covered eyelids and reach out for him.

Fenris didn't know how long it had taken him to reach the top-there was no way to judge. When he glanced back down, he could barely make out the others below, and for a moment, he felt dizzy. There were no rails on the staircase or on any of the upper floors. If he fell, he would be dead instantly.

The carved and painted mural that could be seen so easily below was too large to make out up close. Fenris tilted his head back, and tried to make out any of the scene he had noticed before. But this close, the battling figures became huge blobs of color.

Taking a deep breath, Fenris sank down to the floor and crossed his legs. He closed his eyes and thought of what he was about to do, and what it would mean if they succeeded. Arlathan was in Tevinter. If the city rose from the earth once more, and the elvhen awakened, would they thank the wardens for doing it? Or would they see them as nothing more than _shemlen_, who had interfered where they shouldn't?

But now that he was here, now that he was on the cusp of it all, Fenris felt calm. Maybe it was because when he really thought about it, he knew they were doing the right thing. If nothing else, Aedan couldn't survive as he was, an eternal toddler. But neither could he survive against the soul of an Archdemon. No matter his misgivings about anything else, Fenris knew that he had to help the boy. He couldn't be the monster Fenris had once thought he was, and leave him to his fate.

Fenris brought Anders' image up in his mind, and he smiled. Not one of those small smiles he gave others, but a true smile that only Anders ever brought out in him. "I love you," Fenris whispered.

And then his brands flashed to life.

* * *

><p>When it happened, none of them were prepared for it.<p>

The ground under them heaved, and Anders toppled to the floor. There was a great rumbling as the building shook. Aedan began wailing in his mother's arms, and Morrigan rocked him back and forth, rubbing her hand on his back over and over.

Then the light spells went out.

It should have been pitch black in the building, but above them, the carved mural glowed with an inner blue fire. The gods of the elvhen seemed to writhe as they clashed with their foe. Anders scrambled to his feet, only to be knocked back to the floor again, and slammed his hip on the hard stone.

"Fenris!" he screamed. Oh, Maker, he needed to stop him, he needed to stop this. He got to his feet and only made it a few steps towards the stairs when someone grabbed his ankle. Anders looked down to see Christopher on the floor with the others, his fingers clasped tightly on Anders.

"You can't stop it now," Christopher yelled above the din. "I'm sorry, Anders. We need to be ready to help the boy. Don't let this be for nothing."

Anders wrenched his foot away and fell once more. He closed his eyes, and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyelids as tears seeped out. "Fenris…" he murmured.

* * *

><p>Fenris was in Arlathan, but he was not at the same time. He sat in the same spot he had been when he had made his push into the Fade, but the sun shone here, sending light through the lyrium mural.<p>

He was also surrounded.

Elvhen of various shapes and gender stood around Fenris, some of them with weapons drawn. One of them—a male with long dark hair—barked something at him.

"I don't understand you," Fenris said slowly. His gauntlets cut into his palms from the effort of maintaining his power. When he had first used his lyrium brands, he'd felt nothing until he had begun to push. It had felt different from touching the Fade, and it had startled him at first. But there was something there, something not of the Fade, but very much like it. It was that that Fenris had stepped through, only to find he was not alone.

Fenris tried again, only this time in Arcanum. "I don't understand you."

That got their attention. More weapons were drawn, and the elvhen that had spoken to him, peeled back his lips in a snarl. "Magister pet," he replied back in Arcanum. "You are not welcome here."

"I am no pet," Fenris growled. "And I go where I please." It didn't escape Fenris' notice that more than a few of the elvhen had lyrium tattoos like his. It sent a shiver up his spine as he returned the dark haired one's glare.

"You are not one of us," another elvhen said. This time it was a woman with bright red hair that reminded Fenris of his sister's. Unlike the male that had spoken, she wore no armor, and was instead dressed in a set of deep green robes. "We are all that is left of our kind, and your markings are a mockery of the servants of Fen'Harel."

"You are foolish." Fenris' smile was condescending. "You are weak, and cowardly. Tevinter is shell of its former self, yet your descendants still suffer under their tyranny. Either you are cowards and keep yourselves away from the world on purpose, or you are fools, because you are trapped here."

"And I can smell mortality on you," the woman said, neither confirming nor denying Fenris' assertions. "What brings one with such a short life here? How did you come to this place?"

The others seemed to hang on her every word, and Fenris took her for some sort of leader. "How did I come here?" He flipped his arms over so that they could see his markings through his armor, reminding her that she knew very well how he got there. "A Tevinter magister did this to me. He wished to physically enter the Fade, and was going to use me to do it. I escaped, and eventually killed him. It was your magic that allowed him to do this. The pain was so great that it stole my memories from me, it stole my life." Fenris' tone had become accusatory. "The Blights started because of your magic. Tens of thousands die each time one of the old gods rises. Why didn't you stop them? Why didn't you stop the magisters from going into the Golden City?" He had screamed out the last, and his rage had been palatable in every word. He hadn't realized until this very moment how much the elvhen were to blame for so much suffering, and how angry he was at them.

"Elves are enslaved and marginalized all over Thedas. Yet here you are, and you do not feel the pain of it."

The woman looked taken aback, and she motioned with her hand. Weapons were lowered and sheathed, as she sank down to the floor in front of Fenris. "Tell me. Tell me of it. Tell me of the suffering we have created. Tell me of what we have done."

* * *

><p>The world had exploded into chaos.<p>

It was the only way Anders could describe it—chaos. One moment the rumbling had stopped, and the next…

Every still elvhen in the building lurched to life, some of them flashing brightly with lyrium brands. More than a few of them fell to their hands and knees on the floor, trembling from the shock of once more being in their bodies after so long. Anders realized that preserving their bodies had been a part of the spell that had created the barrier all along. They hadn't just tried to save their city-they had tried to save themselves.

"Get ready!" Morrigan yelled. Anders stumbled to his feet, but his eyes were cast upwards, searching for any sign of Fenris.

"Anders!" Christopher grabbed him by the shoulders, and forced the other mage to look at him. "We need to be ready. Fenris is… He's one of the strongest people I've ever met. He's doing his part, now it's your turn."

Anders had never thought he would ever hear Christopher saying something like that about Fenris, and it jolted him out of the fear that clutched at him. He nodded and turned towards the others. Morrigan and Merrill were already in place. Morrigan lay on the floor next to her son, while Merrill sat just outside the circle of unlit candles around them. Anders crossed over to them, and was careful not to step on any of the symbols that Morrigan had set down. Zevran, Aedan and Carver stood behind Merrill and the Architect, while Seranni, Utha, and Varania sat nearby. When Christopher walked over to take his place opposite of Merrill, Carver moved behind him.

Anders sank to the floor next to Morrigan, and he stared up at the flashing mural. They were going to have one shot at this. Anders had asked Morrigan why they couldn't just take her and Aedan out of the city, and the answer had been horrifying.

They were in the Deep Roads, surrounded by darkspawn. Morrigan had barely been able to bring Aedan though the first time. She'd had to shield him from the effects of the taint, and the darkspawn that had come swarming after her.

The Archdemon in Aedan was weak and small, but it still called to the darkspawn. The barrier kept them trapped, but it also had kept them safe.

Magic swirled in the room as the elvhen collected themselves and began to chant. The mural above him flared even brighter, and Anders had to squeeze his eyes shut, as the glow from the lyrium became all encompassing. He could even see its brightness behind his eyelids, and he slapped the back of his hand over his eyes to shield himself.

The ground under him heaved, and there was a horrible crack, as the heavy earth and stone above them splintered and gave way. The power in the room became a tangible thing, almost suffocating, and Anders had the terrifying thought that they had made a mistake, and they were going to be buried alive, forever entombed under the ruins of the city and rock. The hand over his face began to tremble in his fear, and he could hear young Aedan screaming for his mother in terror.

Magic licked over Anders' skin as the elvhen's chanting reached a crescendo. Maker, he had never felt anything this powerful before in his life. No wonder the magisters had become jealous of the elvhen. If this was even a taste of what they were capable of, then Anders could understand how the power hungry magisters would have even wanted a fraction of this.

It seemed to go on forever, the sound of the earth tearing and giving way to the rising city, as the magic collected, amplified by the lyrium embedded into every building in the city. Too many times Anders thought they were going to die. Too many times his empty hand that lay on the floor, clenched and wished for Fenris' hand in his own, and his comforting presence.

Then it stopped.

But Anders was given no time to open his eyes and collect himself, before his consciousness was sent hurdling into the Fade.

* * *

><p>Fenris lay gasping on the floor as he stared wild eyed at the sun drenched mural above him. The elvhen had needed him to be their conduit between worlds. They had used him as a waypoint, sending themselves back into the waking world.<p>

Blood dripped from his nose, and pooled on the floor below him. He couldn't stop trembling. It had felt like it had when he had inadvertently opened the doorway to the Black City the first time. As if everything that made him Fenris, was being torn apart and splintered. For a brief moment, or what could have been days, Fenris had become one with the stream of lyrium that connected the Fade to other worlds.

And he hadn't been alone.

Fenris sucked in a gasping breath, and he realized he'd been holding the air in his lungs as his mind rebelled against what he had done. Never again-he would never do something like that again. Fenris didn't feel whole, and he couldn't shake the sense of violation.

When he had finished telling the elvhen what she wanted to know, she had introduced herself as Aelwen. She also had conferred upon herself the title of queen. She had explained to Fenris that wasn't entirely accurate, but it would stand until later. Since none of the elvhen had batted an eye at her pronouncement, Fenris took it to be the truth.

She had quickly explained what had needed to be done, and the part Fenris would have to play. She'd even warned him that it would not be pleasant.

Not be pleasant… She had not even come close to describing how it would feel.

When Fenris had slammed back into his body, his brain at first had refused to believe in anything as tangible as the solid floor under him. It hadn't helped that the building had begun to rumble, and the earth above him roared and cracked. Logically, he knew he was in shock, but he would be damned if that thought mattered at all.

Fenris' lips moved, but no sound escaped his throat. _Anders…  
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><p>Anders sighed. Of course he was alone, why wouldn't he be? He was only in the Fade after all, where nothing ever seemed to go right. Never mind that he was back in the tower at Calenhad Lake—or what passed for it. The Black City in the skyline when he looked out the window was a bit of a giveaway.<p>

"Anders?"

All right, maybe not completely alone.

Anders rolled his eyes and turned towards the voice. He was in a little used room that he use to sneak off to when he'd been younger.

Dusty crates with old books of bad Antivan poetry?

Check.

Heavy cloth covering one of the crates that he used to use as a cushion on the floor?

Check.

Anders lifted the cloth. Bottle of stashed elfroot extract?

Check and check.

He sighed again. "Karl… Really? You're going to try and tempt me with Karl? Or is this where you play on my guilt? Why didn't you send me back in solitary? Or even when I thought Fenris had died? You do realize I'm not a young mage going through my Harrowing, correct? I'm older, crankier, and I don't have time for these games. Let me save you the trouble, and tell you my answer is going to be no, to whatever you're offering."

The demon disguised as Karl frowned. "Don't you want to hear my offer?"

"No." Anders crossed his arms. "You're young, aren't you? And why am I even bothering to talk to you?"

"Not even to know where the boy is?" The demon gave Anders a malicious grin, and it looked out of place on Karl's normally gentle face.

"No."

"You have brought something here that the First will be very angry to see. I think I will send you to the boy anyway, just to see your soul get flung into the Void." The demon raised its arms, and Anders braced himself. The room dissolved, melting from the ceiling down as the Fade rearranged itself around him.

Anders found himself on a plateau. The Black City seemed closer now, but still very much out of reach. Anders shivered and turned, his heart seizing when he saw that the demon had kept its promise.

Morrigan stood on the edge of the plateau with Aedan hiding behind her legs. In front of her stood one of the most beautiful creatures Anders had ever seen. There wasn't the slightest imperfection in him. Not in his tall height, nor in the lean muscles on his naked, olive skinned body. His face was even perfect in its symmetry. Not a single strand of his waist length golden hair was out of place, falling in gently cascading waves. Normally, Anders would have laughed to see someone so utterly perfect,-because no one really was-but he was so struck by the man's beauty that he was rendered speechless.

Urthemiel, the God of Beauty.

When Anders blinked, Urthemiel's body shifted. His skin became alabaster while his hair fell shorter than it had a few moments before, gleaming darkly. Anders blinked again, this time on purpose, and Urthemiel's shoulders were suddenly broader, and he was more heavily muscled. Anders thought that he could spend the rest of eternity blinking like that, and Urthemiel would never run out of ways to appear beautiful and pleasing. Anders didn't even think it was voluntary on the god's part.

At least, he had appeared beautiful, until he opened his mouth. He snarled something in a language that Anders didn't understand, and gestured at Aedan. Morrigan spouted something back, and that only seemed to make the god angrier.

Morrigan finally noticed his presence. "So you deigned to show up. He is refusing to leave Aedan. He says that he is not supposed to be here, and that we all must go. I have explained to him that we will leave, but he is not going to come with us."

"A demon decided he wanted to play 'Tempt the Mage' with me." Anders said. "The demon I met said that the First would not like that he's here. Ask him why."

"Yes, I will happily play translator for the Old God. They really do not teach you much in the Circle, do they?"

Anders ignored her attempt to bait him. It was because she was frightened for her son, and it had nothing to do with him. Anders should know-he did it all the time. Besides, how could he argue when she was right?

Urthemiel looked taken aback, and he spoke rapid fire to Morrigan, waving his arms towards the Black City. Morrigan sucked in a breath and turned startled eyes on Anders. "He says that he and his brothers and sisters are not allowed in the Fade. He says they had been cast out long ago, and were not to return."

"What? Why would he be…" Anders trailed off as realization dawned. A forgotten piece of the Chant of Light came back to him in a rush. "'The Old Gods will call to you. From their ancient prisons they will sing. Dragons with wicked eyes and wicked hearts. On blackened wings does deceit take flight. The first of my children, lost to the night.' The Canticle of Silence."

Morrigan gave Anders a small smile. "Not so uneducated then. You know one of the Dissonant Verses. It is one of many that have been struck from the official chant."

"Morrigan…" Anders said carefully. "I think you were right. Why were the Old Gods imprisoned? Why can't he return to the Fade? I think… That mural… I think that the elvhen Creators and the Old Gods were enemies. I think… I think we've made a horrible mistake in coming here."

"No," Morrigan hissed. "Saving my son is not a mistake. I don't care the price, I will set him free."

Anders opened his mouth to reply when the plateau shifted under his feet. He was getting a little tired of not being able to stand on stable ground. The ground exploded, and Anders saw something he had thought never to witness again. Justice drew up from a great crack in the plateau, his armor and sword blazing with ethereal fire.

"Anders," Justice said, and his voice resonated throughout the Fade. "Why have you come here, and why have you brought one of the Enemies of Old with you?"

Anders said the first words that popped into his head. "Shit! Justice you're huge. What happened to you?" He blinked and snapped his mouth shut. _That was brilliant, just brilliant, Anders. Some all-knowing mage you are._

But Justice took it in stride, and Anders saw a little bit of his old friend in him. "I have remembered my purpose since you and I were parted. I had forgotten it long ago, and had been only a fraction of what I once was. Returning me to Hope's side has given me myself back. She is as she will always be, and her hope let's her not forget when all others have."

Before Anders could answer, Justice turned to Urthemiel. The god had his hands clenched at his sides, and his shoulders were fraught with tension. "You were imprisoned for your crimes, for your whispered lies. Your beauty hides your deceitful heart, and you were not to return."

To Anders' surprise, Urthemiel answered him back, and Anders could understand him. "My lies? I wasn't the one who tricked the others and locked us away. So many of my brothers and sisters have had their sleep disturbed, and then been driven mad before they were slain. Have we not been punished enough for our crimes? The Father made us what we are, all of us that are of the First, and yet we are punished for being what he created us to be."

"We were punished because we did not create the way he wished us to," Justice replied. "He gave us the Fade to do with as we willed, but we did nothing with it. We grew jealous of the Second Born, and set ourselves up as gods. Your brothers and sisters took on the form of dragons and whispered to man, deceiving them. How can I allow you to exist? How can I allow you to go free? Your words are poison and your heart is tainted with envy."

Urthemiel screamed in rage, and his form shifted, twisting into that of a massive dragon. The dragon roared at Justice in challenge, and the spirit brandished his sword.

"Go!" Justice told Anders. "The boy will be freed."

"But what about you?" Anders cried. He couldn't just leave him to face Urthemiel alone. No matter what had happened in the end, he and Justice were friends.

"Our battle is an old one, my friend," Justice reassured him. "Beauty has been twisted with Envy and Pride. He needs to be reminded as I once needed to be, who and what he is. Go." He waved his hand at Anders, Morrigan and Aedan, and Anders felt the Fade fall away from under him. Before he tripped out of sight, Anders heard Justice's voice one more time.

"You are to know, that she has been listening."


	79. Chapter 79

Thank you to everyone that is still with me on the story!

A/N: I apologize profusely if I butchered the Italian language._  
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><p><em>Three days outside of Denerim, the Fifth Blight. <em>

Aedan Cousland felt like such a fool. He watched Alistair and Leliana as they sat by the fire at camp. He was concealed from them from his position just out of sight in the woods. Night had fallen, and the moon was just a sliver in the sky, illuminating little, and shrouding Aedan in shadows.

He couldn't seem to help himself anymore, this need he had to watch Alistair when his fellow warden wasn't looking. Not only was it pathetic and fruitless, but it was a dangerous distraction that Aedan could ill afford.

Leliana said something to Alistair that Aedan couldn't quite make out, and Alistair threw back his head and laughed. Aedan closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him as he smiled. Alistair's laugh was like that, something that you wanted to hear because it made you grin. Alistair was so free with his smiles, that Aedan often feared it would lead to his downfall.

Fuck… Aedan was so in love with the man.

Aedan didn't know when it had started, or how it had happened. Somewhere between grieving over Duncan's death, and running from one end of Ferelden to another, Aedan had found himself watching Alistair with hungry eyes.

His placed his hand on the trunk of the tree that he was partially hiding behind, and welcomed the bite of pain as the bark dug into his palm. This wasn't like him. Never in his wildest imaginings, did he ever think he would want someone that didn't have the slightest inclination to sleep with men.

Aedan had seen how it was for the poor bastards that would fall in love with straight men. He had sworn to himself that he would never make that same mistake. It would only end badly and in heartbreak. He had spent years pretending to be attracted to women for his family, at first lying to himself, and then to others. It wasn't until his mother had caught him in the larder with a visiting arl's servant, that the truth had finally come out.

And he had found out he needn't have bothered lying to them in the first place. His family loved him. Besides, Fergus had been the heir, and Fergus had been already was married and had a child of his own. Aedan had had free rein to do as he pleased, and he had made sure that he had done nothing _but_ what he'd pleased.

Maybe that was the problem-Alistair was unattainable, and Aedan had never encountered that before. He had been a rich, handsome second son. Men tripped over themselves and each other to suck his cock. He could admit now, after everything that had happened since Howe's betrayal, that he had been naïve and selfish.

In the past few months, he had experienced life in ways he'd never thought to before. He'd seen war and slaughter. He'd known cold, hunger, and fear. He had scars on his body now, scars that might never fade. The him from a few months ago had acted as if the world was for his taking, and take he had. He now knew what it was like to want someone, and to have them not pay attention to that need in the slightest. How fucking cruel he'd been once. Granted, some of the men he'd slept with and spurned had known exactly what they were getting into with him. But not all of them… Maker, help him, not all of them.

Now he was becoming maudlin—perfect.

He just had to watch himself around Alistair, and pray that he didn't do anything stupid to make this trip awkward, on top of dangerous.

He turned and got three steps into the woods when he saw him. Aedan hands clenched at his sides, and he narrowed his eyes at the barely perceptible Crow in front of him. "Spying on me, Zevran?" he asked.

"Spying on someone, that is spying on someone, strange that. But here we are." Aedan saw a flash of teeth as Zevran smiled. "And we are friends, yes? So you can call me Zev."

"So you've told me before." Aedan moved passed the assassin, and went deeper into the woods, careful to keep the light of the campfire in his periphery so he wouldn't lose his way. He had used the excuse of needing some privacy in the woods to take care of bodily needs, and wanted to come back to camp in the direction he had left.

Bodily needs… Maker, he had them in spades lately.

Aedan could hear Zevran following behind him, and knew that the Crow was purposefully making noise so that that Aedan would be acutely aware that he wasn't going to leave him alone. He ground his teeth in agitation, and quickened his strides.

He wasn't stupid, he knew what Zevran wanted from him. Even if he hadn't been so obvious about it, Aedan would have known. Aedan understood how the game was played, and had once been good at it. There had been a time when he had literally crooked a finger at a man across a crowded ballroom, just to see if it would work. He had ended up bending the red head over a table in a side room—he hadn't even asked his name.

But things were different now—Aedan was different now. And he couldn't shake the thought, that if he gave in and fucked Zevran, that Alistair would know, and he would ruin any chance he might have with the other Grey Warden, no matter how unrealistic that was.

Maker, he was really in deep when it came to Alistair.

"You do understand that not only is he not interested in men, but he is a virgin, yes? A virile man like yourself, needs someone that is… not so pure." Aedan could hear the derision in Zevran's voice. It was faint, and just under the flirtatious tone. "He wouldn't know what to do with you."

Aedan's already fraying temper snapped. He turned and grabbed Zevran by the shoulders, pushing him back hard against a large tree trunk. "And you would?"

Zevran slid his hands up Aedan's broad back, his dexterous fingers tracing over the muscles just under his tunic. "I would. Have I not been making myself clear?" He wrapped first one leg, then the other around Aedan's waist, and lifted himself up until he could reach Aedan's ear. "I want your cock. I want it in my ass, in my mouth, and in my hands." He rolled his hips and ground into Aedan, eliciting a sharp groan from his lips.

Slapping his hands onto the tree trunk on either side of Zevran, Aedan pressed him against the bark, pinning him with his body. "What do you want from me, Zevran? What do you think this is going to accomplish?"

Teeth nipped along Aedan's jawline, and Zevran chuckled low in his throat. "Accomplish? Besides the mind blowing sex I am certain you are capable of? I see you watching him, no? I see the lust in your eyes, and then, I see something more. I am vain enough to want your eyes to be only looking at me that way."

Aedan reared his head back in surprise. "You want me to love you? Bullshit."

"You think me incapable of the emotion, and maybe you are right. What I _do_ know, is that it angers me when I see you pining after someone that will never return your affections, when I am right here." To underline his point, Zevran rocked his hips against Aedan's.

Aedan's fought to keep his eyes from sliding shut as the elf rubbed against his burgeoning erection. He couldn't deny that he found Zevran attractive… All right, more than attractive, the elf was sex wrapped up in a tan and blonde package. At any other time in his life, Aedan would have had Zevran on his back, and his thighs spread the second they had made camp the first night Zevran was with them.

If Aedan was going to be honest with himself, he would have to admit that his unwillingness to sleep with Zevran had little do to with Alistair. It had been months since his family home had been bathed in blood, and Aedan still couldn't get the thought out of his mind, that if only he'd been more observant, if only he hadn't spent that evening fucking a visiting squire, he might have been able to have some sort of advanced warning of what came next. It was as if all his selfishness and debauchery had finally caught up with him, and his family had paid for it with their lives.

While he'd been cock deep in someone's ass, his nephew and sister-in-law had bled out their lives on the floor.

He couldn't make that mistake again. But damn it, Zevran was making it rough to stick to his resolve. Especially with the way he rolled sinuously against Aedan, and moaned softly in his ear. Why couldn't he fuck Zevran if he wanted to? Wasn't he just thinking about how fruitless it his feelings for Alistair were? And it wasn't as if Zevran actually wanted any sort of lasting affection from him. Or did he?

Aedan turned his head, and brushed his lips along Zevran's ear. "I won't ever love you," he warned.

He felt more than heard Zevran's amused chuckle. "How you break this poor elf's heart, _mio caro_. You are not playing the game if you don't at least pretend to love me a little. Where are my sweet words?"

Now it was Aedan's turn to laugh, and it was a deep and low rumble. "You don't want me for sweet words." He balanced himself on one hand against the tree, and grabbed a fist full of Zevran's hair, yanking his head to the side. He sank his teeth into the elf's exposed throat, and was rewarded with Zevran's cry of pain and pleasure. "If you had wanted sweet words, you would have gone elsewhere."

"True," Zevran groaned. His fingers dug into Aedan's back, giving Aedan his own small taste of pain. "It's what attracted me to you, yes? I am not fragile, and you-" He sucked in a sharp breath as Aedan let go of Zevran's hair and gripped his thighs, holding the elf's slight frame to him as he turned and sank down into the dead leaves on the forest floor, sitting with his back to the tree.

Zevran shifted so he was straddling Aedan. He rose up on his knees and brushed his lips along Aedan's. "You are intoxicating. Will you give me what I want, my warden? Will you give me what I have been craving since the first moment I awoke with you standing over me?"

He whispered against Aedan's lips. "Forget your fellow Grey Warden. You need someone that knows what to do with this…" He dropped a hand between them, and traced the outline of Aedan's cloth covered erection. "Big…" He squeezed, and Aedan threw his head back and groaned. "Strong…" Zevran's eyes had become heavy lidded, and he slowly ran his tongue over his lips, as if he were about to take part in a large meal, and he was a starving man. "Cock..."

"Shit, you're shameless," Aedan murmured. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to give Zevran what he wanted, and damn the consequences? Following his cock's lead had almost always gotten him into trouble. But he couldn't seem to muster up the objections he'd had before, when Zev's hand swiftly undid the laces to his leggings. Even the mention of Alistair had only given him a small twinge of guilt.

Zevran tunneled his fingers into Aedan's dark hair, and drew him close. "It's what you like about me, yes?"

"Fuck, yes," Aedan admitted, before he crushed their lips together. He thrust his tongue into Zevran's mouth, spearing his lips open. Their teeth clacked together as the kiss deepened, becoming wild and heated.

Aedan's body jerked when he felt long fingers reach into his leggings, and pull his erection free. He panted into the elf's mouth as Zevran rubbed his thumb over the tip of his cock, spreading the slick pre-cum that had seeped out. "Maker, I want to fuck you right now."

Zevran reached into one of the many pouches at his waist and pulled out a small vial. He stroked up Aedan's shaft, and squeezed as he held the vial up. "Fortunately for us both, I am prepared, yes?"

"Asshole," Aedan cursed. "You followed me tonight for this, didn't you?"

Zevran flashed him a wicked smile. "I am an eternal optimist when it comes to these things, my warden. And I believe I have already made it clear why I followed you. Do not act so surprised. Besides, I think the time for talk has passed, yes?"

He set the vial on a clear spot on the ground, and slid back off of Aedan's thighs. The dead and brittle leaves crunched as he lay splayed out on his stomach, and draped his upper half on Aedan's legs. He eyed Aedan's erection, and licked his lips again. "You do not disappoint, do you?"

Aedan grabbed the base of his cock with one hand, and gathered up all of Zevran's blonde silky hair with his other, wrapping the strands tightly in his fist. "I try not to. Are you as talented sucking cock with your mouth as you are weaving words?"

Glancing up at Aedan through blonde lashes, Zevran ran his tongue up the length of the warden's shaft. "Better…"

Aedan inhaled sharply through his nose as Zevran opened his mouth, his lips hovering over Aedan's cock, and his breath ghosted over the sensitive flesh. Their eyes locked, and Zevran sank down on Aedan's erection, taking the whole thing in one movement down to the root.

"Oh, fuck…" Aedan shuddered in pleasure. He'd never had anyone that was able to take him all the way in like that so quickly. Maker, it had been too long since he'd been with anyone, and his hand just couldn't compare to what Zevran was doing to him right now. The feel of his wet warm mouth, and the way his throat rippled as he pulled back, agonizingly slow, almost undid Aedan right there.

Zevran's head bobbed up and down on his cock. With each withdrawal, he swiped the flat of his tongue over the head, before sinking back down again.

Never one to be passive during sex, Aedan tightened his grip on Zevran's hair and held him still. The tip of his cock was held tightly between the elf's reddening lips, and Zevran darted his tongue into the slit, gathering up the freely leaking pre-cum.

Aedan's hips rocked slowly at first, in order to gauge that Zevran was truly going to be able to handle what he was about to do. But when the elf did nothing but moan, and the sound reverberated down his shaft, Aedan let loose. His cock shuttled in and out of Zevran's mouth faster and faster, as Aedan fucked his face. Fingers snagged the waistband of his leggings, and on an upstroke, Zevran yanked them down just enough to free his balls.

Fuck, Aedan was about to come already. He was a big man, tall and heavily muscled. He used that to his advantage in his life, intimidating when he needed to, or attracting when he wanted. But the fact was that he'd never had anyone be able to take him the way Zevran was now, allowing him to pump his cock as deep as he wanted to, at the pace he wanted, without fear of hurting his partner. He was so turned on from just the thought alone. Images popped rapid fire in his mind, of what other things he could do with Zevran that he'd been afraid of trying. The possibilities… Shit, he was going to come.

But Zevran had other ideas.

The elf grabbed Aedan just above his sac, and pulled down gently on them, stopping their inexorable climb to his cock. If Aedan had been in his right mind, he could have told Zevran that it wasn't necessary. Alistair had taken him aside months ago, and explained certain facts about warden stamina. He had stammered, blushed, and joked his way through the telling, and at the time, Aedan had thought it had been so endearing.

_Damn it! Don't think about him right now. Just… don't think._

Besides, Zevran would find out soon enough.

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><p>Zevran pulled his head back, and Aedan's cock slipped out of his mouth with a lewd pop. He rose up and straddled Aedan once more, their lips coming together in a searing kiss. At this point, he was normally so sure of himself and graceful, each of his movements meant to seduce. But his fingers fumbled next to Aedan as he searched for the vial of elfroot extract. When he finally found it, he broke away from the kiss, and grabbed Aedan's hand. He pulled the cork free, and frowned slightly when he saw his hands were shaking.<p>

It wasn't just the intense lust and anticipation that was racing through him, he had felt that before, and his hands had never trembled like this. He silently thanked the Maker for it being so dark, and moved quickly to prevent Aedan from seeing too much.

Zevran might preach living openly and honestly, but he was acutely aware that he was also a consummate liar. He wouldn't lie to himself, but he would easily lie to another. Rinna was proof that he was capable of love. In the end, he hadn't trusted in that love enough, and she had paid the price for it. He had promised to never again allow himself to be in a position where he would have his love tested, only to fail.

But what he felt for Aedan…

Zevran had never thought himself a jealous man, but seeing the way Aedan looked at Alistair had woken up something inside him-something ugly. He hadn't lied when he'd told Aedan he wanted him to look only at Zevran that way, but it had nothing to do with vanity. He had made the decision several days ago, that if Aedan would not come to him, despite his many invitations, then Zevran would take matters into his own hands. Zevran had never claimed to not be a selfish creature, and he wanted Aedan with an intensity that frightened him a little. If he could seduce Aedan away from Alistair, and show him that he could give Aedan things that an ex-templar could only ever imagine, then maybe… just maybe…

He forced the thought from his mind, and poured a good amount of the elfroot onto Aedan's fingers, letting it pool in his palm. He replaced the cork in the vial, and set it back on the ground. He stood up, and his hands went to the buckles and ties of his leather pants. Damn this shaking. Aedan's eyes were level with Zevran's fingers, and his gaze shot upwards in astonishment, their eyes meeting. He grabbed the elf's hands, smearing elfroot onto his skin.

"Zev?"

Ah… Zevran had longed to hear Aedan call him that. He closed his eyes and let it wash over him. His hands stopped shaking, and he opened his eyes. "Yes, my warden?"

Aedan let go of him, and his hands sank down to his lap. "Nothing…"

The two men stared at each other in silently, Zevran's hands frozen on the ties of his pants.

_Il mio amore_, he thought. _Ah… I do love you… _The realization and all its implications struck Zevran momentarily dumb. He swallowed heavily, and gave himself a mental shake. Later… He would think on it later, or if he was smart, not at all.

* * *

><p>Any lingering concern that Aedan had about seeing the elf's trembling hands, were wiped away when Zevran opened and lowered his pants. Zevran had been with them for a few months now, and Aedan was starting to understand how the elf thought. He wouldn't talk about anything unless he was ready to, and pressing him only made him irritable, and angry.<p>

Zevran's cock sprang free as he lowered the waistband of his pants. They were in the woods on a dark night, with only a small moon, and the firelight from the camp off in the distance to see by. There was no time for a lengthy exploration of each other, to do so would be foolish. Maybe next time…

_Next time? _Aedan thought to himself. Yes… There was going to definitely be a next time, where they would have a soft bed, and more privacy.

Aedan leaned forward and kissed the tip of Zevran's cock. His hands spread across Zevran's ass, and he pulled the assassin closer. Zevran moaned, and braced his hands on the tree trunk above Aedan. Leaves rustled on the forest floor as he spread his legs wider, and his head dropped down between his arms to watch Aedan in the dim light.

A slick middle finger circled around the elf's entrance, as he ran his tongue over the sensitive glans on the underside of Zevran's erection. He felt it twitch, and grow almost impossibly hard against his tongue. Zevran began panting, and he backed up against the finger teasing his ass, telling Aedan without words that he wanted more.

Aedan grinned and complied, pushing his finger inside the elf with a swift motion. He was rewarded when Zevran began cursing in Antivan. At least, if his tone was anything to go by, Aedan thought he was cursing. He pulled his finger free, and reached between Zevran's thighs. As he pressed the heel of his palm against the underside of the elf's sac and perineum, he entered him again, this time at a deeper angle.

"_Cazzo!_" Zevran shouted. "Fuck!" The elf ground down on his hand, and Aedan watched as a shiny bead of pre-cum escaped the tip of his cock. Aedan caught it on his tongue as the slick liquid slipped down the head. He turned and nipped at Zevran's hipbone, before inserting another finger to join the first. He pushed in and curled his fingers, and when he found what he was looking for, Zevran did not disappoint.

"_Creatore_, more, my warden. Fuck, more." His accent had deepened, and Aedan could barely understand him as he slipped back into Antivan.

"What was that, Zev?" Aedan asked, his voice a husky growl. He found he liked Zevran undone like this, unable to speak coherently, his mouth open and panting, and his cock twitching with need.

"_Voglio il tuo cazzo_..." Zevran gasped. "I… _voglio_…" He broke off on a moan, and his hips swiveled, fucking himself on Aedan's fingers. "I want—si!-your cock. Stop teasing me and fuck me."

Aedan chuckled, and pulled his fingers free. "You want my cock?" He slapped Zevran on the ass, and leaned back against the tree. He took his neglected cock in his slick hand, and ran his palm over it, squeezing it at the tip. "Then take it."

Zevran leaned down and grasped Aedan by the shoulders. Aedan clutched at the elf's ass, helping him to ease down and get into position. With his tight leather pants around his knees, he had to plant his feet in front of him on either side of Aedan.

Their eyes locked as Aedan's erection pressed against his entrance. There was resistance at first, and Zevran took his bottom lip between his teeth and hissed in a breath. "So big, my warden… But very much worth it, I think."

The head of Aedan's cock broke through the initial resistance, and Zevran threw his head back and cried out. "Si… This is what I wanted…"

Aedan mouthed at Zevran's throat as the elf slowly took more of his erection. "You ready for a ride, Zev? I want to see your hips dance."

"Mm…" Zevran groaned. He wiggled his hips, and sank down further. "More than ready, my warden."

"Call me Aedan," he whispered against the elf's skin. "Say my name."

"Aedan," the assassin groaned. "My Aedan."

Aedan jerked his hips up and slammed into Zevran, thrusting his cock balls deep into the elf. Zevran's nails dug into his shoulders, and his back arched in pleasure. Using Aedan's shoulders for support, Zevran began to move. His head rolled on his shoulders, and his long blonde hair partially obscured his lust infused face.

Aedan had never seen anything like it before. It was as if Zevran was a desire demon, come to the waking world to tempt him with everything he could ever want in a partner. And the words that tumbled out of his mouth…

"Yes… More… I love your—guh—cock… Fuck me… Fuck me…"

They fell into a rhythm, and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh rang in the air. Aedan had told Zevran that he had wanted to see him dance, and the elf had taken him at his word. Zevran leaned back as far as he could go, his grip tightening on Aedan's shoulders, and Aedan watched as his hips swiveled and moved. No, it wasn't just his hips, it was his whole body. He rose and fell, and his body undulated in sinuous lines, a smooth and graceful flow, like rippling water.

"Going to… come…" Zevran groaned. "Going to…" He cried out and his cock jerked, splattering cum across his tunic, his body shaking in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck, that's…" Aedan had never been with anyone who could climax from fucking alone. He gripped Zevran's ass tightly, and held him still as he pumped into him, chasing his own orgasm. It didn't take long, not with the way Zevran was tightening around him. Aedan clenched his teeth and bit back a moan as he came, jerking his hips against the elf as he rode out his climax.

His heart hammering in his chest, Aedan pulled Zevran's head down for a kiss. That had been… more intense than he'd thought it would be. It was exhilarating and frightening all at the same time.

And Aedan already wanted more.

Zevran pulled back and looked at Aedan in astonishment. "You… I do not… I do not understand, why are you still…"

Taking Zevran's bottom lip between his teeth, Aedan chuckled. "There are benefits to being a warden…" He began to thrust slowly. "Do you think you can handle more? I want you on your hands and knees this time."

Zevran brushed Aedan sweat slicked bangs from his forehead. "Ah, my Aedan. You do say the nicest things to me, yes? There are the sweet words I was looking for."


	80. Chapter 80

Thank you to everyone that is reading, and reviewing!

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><p>Fenris crawled to the edge of the landing, his body trembling. He glanced down, searching for Anders. He needed to know that he was all right, and had made it out of the Fade. He spotted Anders' grey and blue robes streaking across the ground floor, and towards the stairs. Fenris breathed a sigh of relief, and flopped over on his back.<p>

Aelwen and several elvhen were talking rapidly to each other nearby. Their language flowed more smoothly than what the dalish spoke. Fenris had never taken the time to learn any of the elvish language, so he couldn't discern if what the elvhen were speaking was vastly different than what the dalish used.

Not that he truly cared.

He needed Anders. He needed to see for himself that the mage was whole. But he couldn't seem to make his body move correctly, as if the short time he had been away from it, his soul had forgotten what it felt like to be confined, and unable to fly free.

Fenris wished he could forget it. But his solid body wasn't the comfort that it should have been. He felt invaded, and exposed. Aelwen crouched down next to him, and peered into his eyes. "You did well. Don't worry, you should feel yourself soon. Carrying so many other souls like you did, is no small feat. Thank you…"

Fenris' voice came out in a broken, raspy whisper. "Just remember your promise to me."

"I will," she assured him. "If the Imperium is as weak as you say it is, then we will crush them, and free our brothers and sisters. We might only number in the tens of thousands now, but we remember the old ways."

"The dalish… The dalish would follow you, and some of the elves in the cities."

Aelwen grinned. "If they wish it. I won't force them to leave their woods and homes in order to go to war. Our fear of losing our immortality has cost us dearly. We won't make the same mistake again."

Fenris closed his eyes. Not only had he exacted a promise from Aelwen that the elvhen would not leave the enslaved elves of Tevinter to rot like the rest of Thedas had, but he had committed himself to the endeavor. The elvhen were more than willing to strike back at the magisters that had torn their civilization apart, Fenris had had to do little in order to nudge them into all-out war.

He could only hope that Anders and Aedan could forgive him when they found out.

Anders' legs were burning by the time he made it to the top most floor. A crowd of elvhen stood in his way, and with his heart in his throat, Anders pushed by them, calling out Fenris' name. The elvhen parted, but a tall warrior with lyrium markings stood in Anders' path. He had long black hair, and his dark eyes glared down at the mage.

"Rhys," a woman's voice called out in Arcanum, "let him pass."

Rhys moved to the side, but not before narrowing his eyes at Anders.

"Sorry," Anders said as he walked by. "I work for a man who's way more intimidating than you are." Fenris was on his back on the floor with his eyes closed. A woman was crouched down next to him, and she moved to the side as Anders approached.

Anders touched Fenris' cheek. "Love? Love, are you all right?"

Fenris opened his eyes, and tried to sit up. Anders wrapped an arm around him, and half slid Fenris into his lap. The elvhen woman touched Anders on the shoulder. "His body and soul are in shock. He needs nothing but time to give both a chance to get reacquainted with each other again."

Anders dropped a kiss to the top of Fenris' head. "What happened, love?"

"I…" Fenris slipped his arms around Anders and held onto him tightly. "I did something I didn't think was possible."

* * *

><p>Morrigan smiled down at her son, and brushed his dark hair from his eyes. He was still asleep, but Morrigan wasn't worried. She sat with her back against a wall apart from the others, with Aedan in her lap. When she had first discovered the Dark Ritual, she hadn't thought that she would ever become attached to the child, or find a mothering instinct. It had hurt her to keep him an eternal toddler, never allowing him to grow up as he should. But she had promised him that she would find a way to free him, no matter what the cost.<p>

She still needed to find out what exactly her mother's intentions were. Morrigan knew her mother well, but she couldn't decipher what it is that she truly wanted. She still believed that Flemeth wanted a return to the old ways, but the maneuvering that she was doing, seemed too intricate for such an endeavor. She would never be able to breathe easy until she was sure that Aedan would be safe.

_The God of Beauty is no longer here, mother_, she thought. _I have beaten you in this, at least._

A boot scuffed on the floor next to her and she looked up. Her face that had seemed so gentle when she had been looking at Aedan, formed into a scowl. "Is there some reason you seek me out, or do you wish to annoy me?"

Zevran grinned down at her. "Why so mistrustful?"

"Because you rarely do anything without reason, even when you talk to another. So have out with it."

The smile dropped from Zevran's face. "Do you think you can hold him to you, because you gave him a child?"

Ah… Morrigan had wondered when this would happen. When she had seen that Zevran was still with Aedan, after all these years, she had known what would come. "I think nothing of the sort. Lest you forgot, _I _was not the one who followed him across Thedas. I had even told him not to search for me." She smiled at him, and it lacked any warmth. "Besides, I am not the one who should be accused of trying to manipulate Aedan to keep him by my side. Look to your own self, Assassin, and do not project your own guilt and fears onto me."

Zevran took a step back from her. "What are you accusing me of?" he asked carefully.

"Accuse?" Morrigan laughed softly. "I do not accuse. I state facts. Was it nothing more than mere coincidence that you told Aedan, that Alistair would be crushed by the nobles of Ferelden if he did not harden himself? And was I not there, the very next day, when Aedan told him that people were out for themselves, and that Alistair needed to realize that and not be so naïve. Because of what Aedan said, Alistair happily took the throne, and parted the two of them. That bit of manipulation was very well done of you. If I had not been present for both of those conversations, I would not have noticed it. Tell me, does Aedan still see him? Does your heart not clench in fear that one day, he will realize the things you did to drive them apart?"

There were rare times when Zevran let people see the killer inside him, the assassin that had been bought as a child, and raised to murder. He let Morrigan see it now. "Aedan is First Warden now. We left Ferelden years ago. So no… they do not see each other. If I had to do it again, I would still have done what I needed to in order for him to only see me. I do not regret one moment of it."

"You are a selfish creature," Morrigan said.

"I have never claimed to be otherwise." Zevran shrugged. "We are _all_ selfish creatures, no? And we do what we must to keep those we love by our side."

* * *

><p>The sun had sunk into the sky by the time the elvhen finished convening in the Great Hall. They had come trickling into the building, and filled the many floors. Aelwen had stood in the recessed center of the ground floor, and her voice had been magically augmented, so that all could hear her.<p>

She had spoken in her language, and then in Arcanum so that the wardens could understand her. She had told her people of what Fenris had said. How they had slept for far too long, and that the Imperium had almost crumbled. She had spoken of the elves in the cities, the dalish, and the slaves of Tevinter. She had told them of the Blights that had killed hundreds of thousands over the years. Of the Chantry and what the magic they had taught the humans had become.

She had also talked of a war that was not finished, because the elvhen still lived, and they did not forget.

The only interruption had been from Aedan, who had asked her if the Blights could be stopped, if the taint could be cured. Anders had waited with bated breath as she had considered her answer.

_No._

The curse might have started when the magisters perverted elvhen magic, and gone to the home of the Creators, but it was not the elvhen's doing. Until the curse ran its course, and each of the Old Gods who had lied to the magisters were driven mad, and then defeated to never rise again, the Blights would not stop.

There was nothing they could do.

* * *

><p>"We have wasted our time," Fenris said. The wardens had been shown to rooms in another building. The rooms were sparse, but what it lacked in furniture and size, it made up for in decoration. Every wall in the room was painted intricately with scenes of a forest. Creatures that had long been extinct, roamed lush green woods. One didn't feel like they were in a room, but in the forest and among nature. Even the bed frame was made up of thick, twisting branches that twined upwards towards the ceiling. Green leaves sprouted and formed a thick canopy above the bed.<p>

Fenris had his arms behind his head as he lay on the bed, and stared up at the leaves above him. It had been hours now since he had returned from where the elvhen had trapped themselves, and although the feeling of not being completely in his body had abated, it was still there.

"Considering what we had originally come here for, then yeah, we did." Anders flopped back on the bed next to Fenris. "But did you really think we were going to find a cure for the corruption, and a way to end the Blights here?"

Fenris closed his eyes as he considered the question. "No. But I did have a small hope that maybe…"

"That maybe there could be a retirement plan that didn't involve death by darkspawn?" Anders finished. "Yeah… Me too."

Fenris reached down and linked his fingers with Anders'. "I… I have to tell you something."

"Uh oh," Anders laughed. "I don't like the sound of that."

"You should not." Fenris hesitated. "I was the one that urged the elvhen to attack Minrathous. I also told them I would be there when they set the great towers to burning."

Anders rolled over and braced himself over Fenris. "You did what!"

Their eyes met and locked, Anders' full of shock, and Fenris' filled with determination. "I have a chance to see the magisters pay for their arrogance, for their cruelty, for their sadism. I need to feel the Archon's heart in my hand for daring to take you from me. I need to see the slave auction houses torn down, stone by blighted stone. I want to see the slaves rise up, and occupy the very mansions that they once had been set to cleaning. I need to see the streets of Minrathous run red with blood. And I want you there with me."

Anders sucked in a breath. "Love… How could you? Innocent people will die. War doesn't just kill the wicked. It kills people who have no stake in it as well-people who want no part of it."

"Do you think the magisters care for the plight of the innocent? The magisters are weak compared to what they once were. They have lost much of their stolen magic, and are fighting a war already. The elvhen could crush them, and why shouldn't they?"

Anders closed his eyes and touched his forehead to Fenris'. "Because so many people will die. I had thought… I had thought that you had put this behind you."

"Never," Fenris whispered fiercely. "I will never put it behind me."

* * *

><p>"I refuse," Fenris said as he looked up at the morning sky.<p>

They had been in Arlathan for two days while Fenris recovered, and Aedan, Morrigan, and the Architect talked with Aelwen. The elvhen had been uneasy with the Architect's presence, but on Aelwen's word, had largely ignored him.

Varania had visited Fenris often, and his heart broke at how changed she was. Her speech patterns were different, as if she had to stop and think of how to form words. Her mind was still sharp, but there was a forming disconnect with her body. Still, Fenris had been patient with her, waiting for her to finish her thoughts, and not interrupting her.

Anders shielded his eyes from the sun with ihs hand, and followed Fenris' line of sight. "I don't know. You flew on a dragon already. What's a griffin to you?"

"I did not enjoy it. Hurtling through the air, and relying on the beast carrying you not to allow you to plummet to your death, does not make for a relaxing ride."

Rhys grinned as he joined Anders and Fenris in the main square of Arlathan. "Are the quicklings afraid of flight? If you wish to walk, be my guest. I am going to ride to Weisshaupt, and be there weeks ahead of you."

It had been Rhys that had suggested that they use the griffins that had been trapped in Arlathan to get back to Weisshaupt. They didn't have much time, and the corruption was spreading through Morrigan. She had cast spells to delay it as long as possible, to allow Fenris to recover, and to ply Aelwen with questions, but time was running out, and they had to leave.

They also didn't know how long they had been gone. For the wardens, they had left Weisshaupt three days ago, but according to Morrigan and Aelwen, it could have been much longer in the outside world.

The Architect was staying in Arlathan, to continue his research. He had a new avenue of what might have caused the Blights to research, and Aelwen was allowing him to stay. She had said that the elvhen needed a reminder of what the magisters were capable of.

And Rhys… Rhys was coming with them.

Aelwen wanted someone with the wardens for a time, and close to Minrathous. Aedan had readily agreed to it, and the matter was closed as far as he was concerned.

Fenris disliked Rhys intensely.

He was cocky, brash, and because he was the head warrior of those dedicated to Fen'harel, seemed to think that Fenris should show him some deference.

That was not going to happen.

It make matters worse, the day before, Anders had asked Rhys how the warriors of Fen'harel had managed to survive their branding. Rhys had given him a confused look, and told him that it only hurt a little bit, but when done correctly, there was no lasting damage.

Done correctly…

That had set Fenris off, and even in his slightly weakened state, had gone after Rhys. The two elves had exchanged several blows by the time they had been pulled apart, and Rhys had done nothing but laugh, calling Fenris arrogant and unschooled.

Yes… Because Fenris was the arrogant one here.

But he was correct when it came to being unschooled in what he knew. Unfortunately, the only one who could answer his questions and teach him also happened to be an ass.

Now they were to lure the griffons down, and fly them back to Weisshaupt. Fenris' time in Arlathan just kept getting better.

Merrill and Christopher were predictably excited. Merrill was practically bouncing in place as she pointed up at the sky, and the griffons that were mere specks. "Isn't this wonderful? Weisshaupt will have griffins again. Oh, I wish Hawke and Varric were here to see this."

"Lovely," Fenris muttered. "I can't wait."

Rhys clapped Fenris on the back, and grinned when he scowled at him. "Just make sure you hold onto them tightly when we take off. I wouldn't want to see such a young warrior fall to his death."

* * *

><p>It took them three days to get back to Weisshaupt. Although Anders had been terrified the first few times they had left the ground, he eventually began to have a bit of fun. It was strange to see the world zipping by below him, but as they had soared through the clouds, Anders had started to see the beauty of it.<p>

Fenris had not been so enamored.

So it was with relief when they saw Weisshaupt coming into view. As they cleared the mountains that surrounded the valley Weisshaupt was located in, Anders saw the first plumes of rising smoke. There were hundreds of them, and as they drew closer, he saw why.

"Maker…" Anders' breathed, and his words were snatched away by the wind.

Fenris sat behind him on the griffin saddle. "Weisshaupt is being besieged," he shouted.

But as the griffin began its descent and dipped down, Anders knew that wasn't true. "No! I don't think we are. Look, those are the banners of the King of Ferelden. And look there, I think… is that Kirkwall, and Starkhaven?"

"There's Orzammar, and The Circle of the Magi," Fenris called.

"And the Anderfels…" Maker, the camp city in front of Weisshaupt was enormous. Anders had never seen so many armies gathered in one spot. "What are they doing here?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Fenris said. "It seems that Flemeth's schemes are coming to fruition. They are here for war."


	81. Chapter 81

A/N: This chapter references something in a oneshot I wrote and posted on AO3 called Captured.

In short, Fenris and Anders role played a threesome with Sebastian, when Seb wasn't there. Fenris blindfolded Anders and whispered a kinky threesome story in his ear.

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><p>Three months.<p>

They had been gone for three months. A month for everyday they were in Arlathan. In that time, the world had erupted into chaos, and it had all landed right in Aedan Cousland's lap.

They had hurried from the griffon tower, and down to the main hall, Aedan barking for Helena the whole way. What greeted them there had stunned Aedan into silence, Helena's name dying on his lips.

Several pairs of eyes swung his way, and everyone started speaking at once, each trying to be overheard as they clamored for Aedan's attention. Aedan's eyes had darted from one person to another, seeing old friends and new in the sea of people. Companions that he hadn't seen or heard from in years stood before him, Wynne, Oghren, Leliana, Alistair. Even Sten was there, his arms crossed and his face stoic in silence.

Then there were the newer faces of Nathaniel, Sigrun, Velanna, and Denerou. Aedan's heart pounded in his chest as he looked even further into the room. Viscount Hawke and her husband, Prince Vael, and the Kings of Orzammar and the Anderfels, along with Anders' and Fenris' friends from Kirkwall. They were all here, in Weisshaupt, bringing with them more men than Aedan had ever seen gathered din one place.

Aedan took an involuntary step back as realization dawned on him. Flemeth… She was going to shove the responsibility of her actions onto him. It was a tangible thing, the responsibility, and Aedan could already feel it settling on his shoulders. He shook his head and closed his eyes, as if by doing so, he could make it all go away.

But when he opened his eyes, they were still there and still trying to talk to him all at once.

"Shut the fuck up…" Aedan muttered. Then louder. "Shut it!" His voice boomed through the hall, and everyone went instantly silent.

He pointed at them each in turn. "What. In. The. Void. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Fortress! And why is there a fucking army outside my doorstep larger than the one at Ostagar? What the fuck are you people doing!" Aedan's temper was short in the best of times, but now it had frayed and snapped completely. "You know what? Never mind, I don't think I want to know why."

"Now… is that anyway to greet your friends?" Alistair asked. "We could ask the same of you. Some of us got here a month ago, and you were nowhere to be found. No one would tell us anything either."

"Good. If they felt the need to blab to every fucking monarch that stopped by my fortress, then nothing would ever get done."

Alistair's eyebrows rose, and he gave Aedan a crooked grin. "Maker, you're more stubborn than I remember."

"Yeah?" Aedan retorted. "Well I get testy when I come home to see armies camped out on my front lawn."

"Aedan," Wynne said gently. "You need to hear us out."

"Uh huh… And what do I need to hear that will make this intrusion all right?"

"A few months ago, Tevinter made its move… on all of us. Two months ago, the College of Magi was convening to elect a new Grand Enchanter. We were attacked, and half of the mages there were killed. I was lucky to escape with my life."

"Over three months ago," Alistair added. "A magister that had wormed his way into my family's life, attacked me, and threatened to kill my heir. A lot of the King's Guards died that night protecting me. I wrung the truth out of him before I killed him." He shoved his thumb over his shoulder to point behind him at Nate. "He mentioned the wardens. I decided I need to have a little chat with Ferelden's Warden-Commander. It was… enlightening. You've been keeping secrets from your king." He clucked his tongue. "Naughty."

Aedan opened his mouth to reply, but Leliana interrupted him. "A magister spy was found after she attempted to murder the Divine in her sleep. I was sent here… to visit an old friend, yes?"

"Those bastards tried to kill me and my son," King Behlen cried. The dwarf monarch that Aedan had helped put on the throne, had aged in the years since Aedan had last seen him. His beard that had once been golden was now streaked with grey, and his eyes had hardened. "I was at Kal-Sharok when I heard an army was gathering here. Came to see what the fuss was about. Turns out, I'm not the only one that Tevinter has messed with. I'm cutting off the lyrium trade in Tevinter, let's see how they like that."

Hawke pushed passed the others and stopped in front of Aedan. Her eyes were hard, and her lips pressed in a grim line. "They took my son. They took him and told me that I needed to step aside, and let Tevinter do what it wanted."

"Oh, shit…" Anders whispered. "Hawke—"

"Don't, Anders. Unless the next words that come out of your mouth are 'let's go kill the bastards', then I don't want your pity." Cullen came up behind her and squeezed her shoulders. Hawke looked more tired than Anders had ever seen her. She also looked angrier.

Anders gave her a weak smile and bowed. "Champion…" Maker, what was Tevinter thinking? They weren't, that was obvious enough. Lesson number one, you don't piss off Hawke. Lesson number two, you don't piss off Mama Hawke, by fucking with her child. Lesson three, when Hawke spoke like that, she was the Champion of Kirkwall, and she meant business.

"Kirkwall is an ally of Starkhaven," Sebastian said. "An attack on Kirkwall, is an attack on Starkhaven. We will not let this slide."

Andraste's smalls, but Anders couldn't look at Sebastian in the face. Damn it. He didn't think he would be seeing Vael so soon. It was like every time he looked at those brilliant blue eyes, Anders could see nothing but how he had looked as the mage had taken his cock down his throat, or at least, how Anders had pictured him looking. Oh, fuck, he was picturing it now. Stop it… Stop it… Not a good time right now.

Aedan looked dazed by the time they were finished. "And where is your lovely wife, Vael? Please tell me you left her back in Starkhaven."

"And why would I go and do a daft thing like that?" Sebastian said with a wry smile. "She's in your dungeons with your Second—Helena I think her name is. They are…talking to three people that showed up a month ago, around the time we did. A Tevinter by the name of Gaius, a half elf, and a man that Liz is certain is the Black Divine."

"Hawke!" Merrill cried. She launched herself at Marian, and gave her a huge hug. "I'm so glad to see you. Oh, you should have been with us. You won't believe where we've been. We flew on griffins, Hawke. It was wonderful."

That's when Aedan lost it completely.

* * *

><p>Aedan had immediately turned around, grabbed Morrigan by the arm, and marched her and young Aedan to another room, leaving everyone else behind. Before she had left, Fenris didn't miss the sly glance she threw over her shoulder at Zevran, or the disgruntled look he gave to her in return.<p>

Fenris didn't blame Aedan in the slightest for being angry. He knew how the man felt. Despite what Fenris had intended, he was still doing what Flemeth wanted. This was too neat, too much of a coincidence that everything they had assumed that Flemeth wanted, was coming to pass. It was as if Fenris was being dragged down a roaring river, and even though he could grab onto rocks to slow his path, he couldn't seem to stop it.

And Aedan still didn't know that Fenris and Anders didn't mean to stay. If he was angry now, it was going to be nothing in comparison to what he was going to be when he found out.

Fenris sighed and walked over to Nate. Behind him, he could hear Marian and Carver arguing. She wasn't taking the news that he was a warden now very well.

Zevran sauntered over to Leliana and Alistair. He wrapped his arms around Leliana, and swung her around in a circle while she and Alistair laughed. "Ah! My Orlesian fiery beauty, I have missed you, yes?"

Fenris shook his head and stopped in front of Nate. The Warden-Commander had his arms crossed over his chest, and he gave Fenris a small smile. "I see you were successful in getting Anders back."

"Of course he was," Velanna said. "I for one had no doubts."

"What she means to say," Sigrun said in a stage whisper, "is that she won the betting pool. Not that anyone was betting against you," she said quickly.

"I didn't take part in it," Denerou assured him.

"That's because you hadn't enough coin," Velanna retorted.

Nate rolled his eyes. "As you can see, we were worried about you four. I'm glad none of you were hurt."

"We need to talk," Fenris said quietly. "There's much that has happened."

Nate nodded. "And there is much for us to tell you as well. Maker, we've really stepped into it. The king declared that I had to come with him to Weisshaupt. Things spiraled out of control pretty quickly from there."

"He threatened to dissolve the Grey wardens of Ferelden," Oghren added. "Didn't think the boy had it in him to make such threat like that. Was kinda proud of him for that."

"Yes," Nate said dryly. "Proud enough to start laughing when he said it."

Something inside Fenris clenched painfully, but not unpleasantly. He hadn't known until this very moment how much he had missed the wardens of the Vigil. No matter where he went now, the Vigil was his home, and the wardens there his family. It was a strange thought, and one that made his rash promise to Aelwen all the harder.

Anders was still angry with him, but he was going to come anyway. He didn't like the fact that Fenris had made a decision like that without him, and he had told him that he felt a bit betrayed by it. Anders had said that he just needed some time for the anger to pass, but that he wouldn't let Fenris go alone. He had also made Fenris promise to never do it again.

Fenris had agreed readily.

"Well talk later, when we have some more privacy." Nate glanced around the packed room. "None of the monarchs here can decide who's in charge. It has been… tense for weeks now. Aedan's Second let them in, because she had little choice."

"I noticed that Medwin didn't say anything. Has he told you why he's here yet?" Fenris asked. He flicked his eyes behind Nate to where Anders and Medwin were having a heated conversation.

"Yeah, he has. The cat's out of the bag, Fenris. He announced that if anyone here was going to destroy Tevinter, it would be him, because they took his older brother. There was a lot of cheering and table banging from his men when he said that."

"Shit…" Fenris closed his eyes in resignation. "Anders warned us that this might happen. We had hoped that Medwin would be a little bit more circumspect."

"I'm starting to see why Anders complained about the Anderfels so much," Nate sighed.

"Will you at least stay in the Free Marches?" Marian yelled. "Maker, Carver, I knew I shouldn't have let you go."

"Problem?" Nate asked Fenris.

"Nothing that isn't new," Fenris shrugged. "Carver is Viscount Hawke's younger brother. He came with us, and became tainted. Marian isn't taking the fact that he's now a warden very well." His lips twitched in a small smile. "Zevran also had to go through the Joining, you'll be glad to know."

Their eyes all widened in shock, and Fenris had to suppress his laughter.

"Thank fuck," Nate growled. "Do you know how many times he and Aedan have fought over the years about Zevran not going into the Deep Roads?"

"I can imagine."

Nate continued on. "And do you know how many times I was dragged into the middle of one of those fights? They were like blighted children. I think they were just doing it so they could make up afterwards."

Velanna covered her ears. "Ugh! I thought when they left I was going to hear the last about their sex life. Please stop."

Smiling, Sigrun jumped up and down, and waved her hands to get Zevran's attention. "Congrats, Zev!"

Zevran smiled back at her, and gave her an elegant, courtly bow.

It was Denerou that drew their attention to the matter at hand. "Who is your friend, Fenris?"

Fenris turned around. Rhys stood off on his own, his arms crossed over his chest. "That's Rhys, and he is no friend of mine," he said flatly. "He only speaks his own language and Arcanum. I think he's going to be very uncomfortable here." He said the last with a malicious grin.

"Does he… Maker, on his skin…" Nate breathed.

"Exactly," Fenris nodded. "As I said, we need to talk."

* * *

><p>It was an hour before Nate and Fenris could get away from the main hall, and drag Anders along with them. Anders' face had a look of horror as he trailed them down the corridor to Fenris and Anders' room.<p>

"The blighted barons want to meet me. You realize that I'm going to have to sneak out of the Anderfels now, don't you?" Anders spoke less to Nate and Fenris, and more to himself. "I mean, what in the Void am I supposed to say to them? I don't even like the Anderfels. Oh, hi! My name is Anders. No, really, that's my name, don't laugh. So uh… I'm a bastard son of a king, and you people scare the piss out of me. No, no, I don't want to drink with you and tell tales of fighting darkspawn. I'll just be over here, curled up in a sobbing ball."

He continued on with his rant as they entered the room and shut the door. "I mean, I could just pretend I don't know what they're talking about. That would work right? Like Medwin is insane, and I have never seen him before in my life." Anders flopped down in a chair, while Nate and Fenris took the others that surrounded the table.

"I don't think that would work," Nate pointed out. "The resemblance is striking."

"Don't encourage him," Fenris sighed.

"No, Nate has a point. I guess all that's left is to run. It's a good thing we're going soon, and I…" Anders' mouth snapped shut. "Shit…"

"Going?" Nate asked.

Fenris sent Anders a speaking glance, before turning to Nate. "Hear us out before you get angry with me."

* * *

><p>"I'm not angry," Nate said when Fenris and Anders were done with their story. "I am disappointed. Maker, Fenris. What were you thinking? I understand the need for vengeance all too well, but it will eat you up inside and destroy you. I…" Nate looked away. "When I first met Aedan, I had come to the Vigil to kill him. I hated him so much for destroying my family. I blamed him for the loss of my family's status in Ferelden, and for my father's death. It took me a long time to realize that my father had brought it on himself. That the anger I had in me was directed more at him than anyone else." He looked up. "But he was dead, and I no longer even had a chance to tell him what a bastard he was. You had that chance, Fenris. You killed Danarius. Why make others suffer for your hate?"<p>

Now it was Fenris who looked away. "Maybe you're right, but I can't pretend that what I went through doesn't go on every day in Tevinter. I have a chance to crush them once and for all, and I am not going to let that go."

Nate nodded grimly. "All right. I'll drop for now. But you will still have to answer to Aedan, and he isn't the understanding soul that I am."

"You are _so_ not understanding, Nate," Anders said. "You were pissed when Isabela stopped seeing you."

"That's different." Nate shook his head. "I had fooled myself into thinking that she wanted something more from me than she did."

"And now she's here," Fenris said softly.

"And now she's here." Nate raked his hair back from his face. "I'm long over that, but it _has_ been irritating to see her flit from one person to another. I want to tell those poor bastards what they're in for."

"Time of their life and a broken heart?" Anders asked.

Nate laughed. "There is that." Then he sobered. "If you are correct in thinking what Flemeth's motives are, then we all have walked right into it. The question is-can we stop it before it's too late, or has it already gone too far?"

"It's too late," Fenris said. "Arlathan has been revived, and the elvhen will make plans for war. Even if none of the armies here join them and disperse, the elvhen will not back down."

Nate locked eyes with Fenris. "Then I pray to whatever gods are looking over us, that we will not destroy ourselves."

Fenris slammed his fist on the table. "We are still missing something. What the fuck does she want? Why all this? Why now?"

"Her daughter does not know?" nate asked.

It was Anders who answered. "No. She has guesses, just like the rest of us do. I can't help but think that what happened to me in the Fade was a part of her plan as well. If I hadn't been with Morrigan and Aedan, I think Justice might have killed them. She sent Fenris after me for that very reason. The question is, why? Why did she want the Archdemon in the Fade?"

"Why?" Fenris said. "Because she is a witch that plays with people's lives. If I ever see her again, I'm going to kill her once and for all. One only has to look outside to see that she has gone too far."

"I don't think she can be killed." Nate stroked at the small patch of hair under his bottom lip. "Aedan tried once, and failed. She had expected it, and planned accordingly."

"What would killing her do at this point?" Anders asked. "I mean, everything seems to be set in motion right now. Tevinter has to bear the brunt of the blame. Would killing her really stop anything?"

"No," Fenris said flatly. "But it would make me feel better."

"Oh… well then, if it would make you feel better, Love, then by all means, kill the witch. In fact, why don't you just continue on this trend you have of doing things that will make you feel better? You've already incited a war."

Fenris' eyes narrowed. "You're being passive aggressive."

"Really?" Anders asked in mock surprise. "Here I thought I was being blunt."

"I thought we had already talked about this," Fenris said between gritted teeth.

Anders opened his mouth, and then snapped it close. He ran his hands over his face and sighed. "We did. Sorry… I'm really tired, and was looking forward to a few days of peace."

Nate laughed. "Not much chance of that around Aedan. You—"

A frantic knocking on the door interrupted him. Before Anders could finish getting up from his seat, the door clicked and opened. Carver poked his head inside, and he hurried in, shutting the door firmly behind him. "Thank the Maker. I need to… hide out here for a little while. Before my sister and I kill each other. She's gone insane."

His eyes flicked over to Nate. "Nathaniel Howe? You're Howe, correct? Fenris has mentioned you in his letters. You're the Warden-Commander of Ferelden."

Nate smiled. "That would be me. Carver Hawke?"

"Yeah…" Carver strode over to the table. He flattened his palms on it and his gauntlets clanked on the wood. He leaned towards Nate. "I want to join the Grey Wardens of Ferelden."

Anders eyebrows shot up. "Ferelden? Not Ansburg, where you'd still be close to—"

"My sister?" Carver snapped. "Oh, yes. That's what she wants me to do. I'm choosing otherwise. I'm not an idiot. My life was already going to end with me babbling to myself from lyrium poisoning." He laughed, and the sound lacked any mirth. "Now, I have to wonder what's going to devour my brain first—the lyrium, or the taint. I would rather spend what's left of my sane days doing what I see is right, and not what my sister wants from me." He locked eyes with Nate. "Take me on. I swear you won't regret it."

Fenris nodded in Carver's direction. "I can vouch for him, if you wish. I've known Carver for years, and have fought with him many times."

Anders whistled low. "Marian is going to kill us…" he said in a sing song voice.

"My sister is in pain because she has lost her child. She is trying even harder than usual to hold onto me." Carver scowled. "I'll take her anger. I'm used to it."

Nate gave Carver a considering look. "You were a templar then?" He eyed the armor that Carver still wore.

"Yes, ser." Carver pushed away from the table and straightened. "Before… Before I was forced to join the wardens, I was going to become a Knight-Captain. I had worked years for it."

"I'm not asking for your credentials," Nate said, and his gruff voice deepened. "I have mages under my command. Some of them scarred from their time in the Circle. They are valued members of the wardens, and essential to our cause."

"Aw…" Anders sighed dreamily. "You just made this mage's heart go all aflutter, Nate."

"I'm serious, Anders." He peered into Carvers eyes to make sure that he was being understood. "The Grey Wardens do what they have to in order to combat the Blights. Some of which would be frowned on by the Chantry."

"Frowned on, get us killed as heretics, what's the difference?" Anders asked. "Ow!" He shot a disgruntled glance at Fenris. "You kicked me!"

"And I just came back from a city that shouldn't be, with a witch. I walked into Tevinter using…" Carver paused.

"We've already told him everything," Fenris said.

"I walked into Tevinter," Carver continued on, "using a magical mirror. I could go on and on, but you're just going to have to take my word for it. I was at Ostagar and survived. I know that there are mages that need to be outside of the Circle in order to do some good. I won't do anything to jeopardize any warden mages."

"Wait..." Anders sputtered. "What? You hated me, and I was doing some good."

"You were also an abomination," Carver stated matter-of-factly. "And dragged my sister into all sorts of trouble."

"Hey! You went with us too."

"Anders," Fenris warned. "This is beside the point."

"All right," Nate said. He folded his hands together on top of the table. "I understand that you and Fenris have been friends for years. And to be honest, we need as many wardens as we can get. Your templar talents could be useful."

Carver smiled, and it was strange for Fenris to see it. It was something that he rarely did, and the few times Fenris had seen it was when they had been…

"You won't regret this, thank you." Carver looked around the room. "Any chance we can get something to eat. I've been starving since we left Arlathan."


	82. Chapter 82

Thank you everyone for reading!

A/N: This chapter also mentions something that happened in the oneshot Captured on AO3. Anders confronted Fenris about wanting Aedan, assured Fenris that he wasn't upset by it, and that they should talk about asking Zev and Aedan into their bed sometime.

* * *

><p>Carver didn't know how to get dressed. Or more, he didn't know what he should wear. He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the templar armor displayed neatly on the armor rack on the other side of the room.<p>

Being a templar was one of three choices that Carver had made in his life that he could call his own. The first had been when he had decided to go to Ostagar to fight the horde. Another choice had been when he had gone after Corypheus. Both of those decisions hadn't been his most brilliant, he would never forget the horror that had been Ostagar, nor his escape from the battlefield to find his family, fleeing one step ahead of the horde. And he had botched up destroying Corypheus, hadn't he? The magister turned darkspawn had jumped bodies, and Carver hadn't seen it. He knew that lives had been lost because of his carelessness.

Propping his elbows on his knees, Carver buried his face in his hands. No, out of those three decisions, becoming a templar had felt right, and he had done some good. He had been respected in the barracks, and despite his sister's interference, had carved a name for himself. He had wanted to emulate his namesake, and become the kind of templar that mages didn't need to fear, one that would protect them, and the citizens of Kirkwall.

Now it was gone, snatched from him in an instant of magic that they shouldn't have been playing with. He had been so angry at first-at Aedan for pushing it, at Merrill and Christopher for helping, at Fenris for going along with it. But in the end, he was only angry at himself for not seeing it coming, for not taking a stronger stand. His gut that had served him so well in the templars, had screamed at him to not let them do it, and he had ignored it to his detriment.

So when he had woken in his bed at Weisshaupt his first morning back, Carver had found himself immobilized. Years of training had ingrained in him that he first got dressed in his tunic and breeches, then put his armor on. He could put the blasted plate on himself in his sleep if he needed to. Last night, when he had removed his armor, he had checked it over for damage, and polished any of the steel that was dull, without even thinking about it.

Carver blew out a breath, and lifted his head from his hands. His eyes ran over his amour, and he snorted in disgust. The only person that he felt comfortable enough to talk to about this was Fenris-a fat lot of good that would do him now. Ever since Carver had inadvertently let slip just how much Fenris had meant to him once, things had been awkward between the two of them.

There was a soft knock on his door, and Carver inhaled a slow, shuddering breath to calm himself. He got up and walked barefoot to the door, crossing the thin rug in the center of the room. It had better not be his sister. He loved Marian, he truly did, but she was going to drive him insane. On one hand, he wanted to be there for her in her time of need. On the other hand, she had harped on him for what had felt like hours about how reckless he had been, and that he needed to stay in the Free Marches.

Knowing that she was only acting this way because she loved him and her child was missing, did not help anything. She was still being controlling.

Carver steeled himself and yanked the door open. Any excuses he had prepared for Marian died on his lips when he saw who was standing in the hall. "Howe…"

"Hawke," Nate said. He raised his eyebrows. "May I come in?"

Carver's brain took a moment to switch gears, and he stepped back to let Nate inside, shutting the door behind him.

Nate took in the sparse room that consisted of only a single dresser with a washbasin, a small bed, and the armor and weapon racks. He stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face Carver. "I talked to Aedan earlier. He's approved your request to come to be stationed at the Vigil."

"Oh… I didn't know you had to ask. I'm not quite sure how the hierarchy in the Grey Wardens works." Frankly, Carver had tried to think of anything _but_ how the Grey Wardens worked internally. It was as if by not thinking about it, he could forestall the inevitable reality of his situation. Talking about it with Marian last night, had started his mind down a road it hadn't been prepared to go yet. When he had seen Howe in Fenris and Anders' room, he had seized on the idea that there was a way to at least give himself a bit of distance from his sister. It had unfortunately had the adverse effect of making his status as a Warden of the Grey, all too real.

Nate laughed, and Carver noticed that his gravely tone softened when he did so. "The truth is there is little in the way of a chain of command. Aedan is First Warden. That means he's the head of all of the Grey Wardens in Thedas. Each outpost has their own Warden-Commander. The First Warden allows the Warden-Commanders to run their outposts as they see fit, within reason. There is usually a Second in each outpost, but beyond that, it is up to the Warden-Commanders how they run things."

That was… Not exactly how things were done in the templars. Carver had liked the strictness of the chain of command in the templars. His life growing up had been so fluid, that the rigidness of the templars had soothed him. He always had known what was coming, and there were regulations for any surprises that might come along. To him, the wardens sounded like chaos.

Nate must have noticed the slightly appalled look on his face, because he gave Carver a small grin. "You'll get used to it. It took me a long time at first, but I've come to appreciate how the wardens do things. The Grey Wardens deal with an ancient enemy that can rise up at any time. We must be ever vigilant, and able to think on our feet. When Aedan was Warden-Commander of the Vigil, he had a knack for sizing someone up, and seeing the potential in them."

"What about you?" Carver asked before he could bite back the words.

"Ah…" Nate glanced away to examine the threadbare brown rug. "I am learning… But the lessons have been costly at times." He glanced up and gave Carver a startled look, as if he had not meant to say as much as he had. Nate cleared his throat. "Anyway, I came to tell you that you are officially one of my men. Later today, I want you to meet the wardens that came with me. I have known them the longest, and I think you should get to know them."

The small smile was back, and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he grinned. "This might change your mind about coming to Ferelden, so fair warning, but there are few secrets in Vigil's Keep. We tend to get involved in each other's business. I know it overwhelmed Fenris at first. But we can be a friendly lot when we aren't killing darkspawn."

He walked over to Carver and clapped him on the shoulder. Leaning close, he whispered in his ear. "Just remember, whatever Oghren tries to give you, don't drink it. You might just save your liver's life. Also, don't take anything that Velanna says personally. She can be brash at times." He paused as if reconsidering. "Most of the time," he amended

Carver's breath caught in his throat. It didn't matter, with Nate so close the scent of leather and male drifted into his nostrils. He kept his face perfectly impassive as he felt Howe's breath whispering over his skin. "I'll remember that, thanks. Would… Should I meet you somewhere?"

Nate nodded. "How about meeting us in the dining hall at the noon bell?"

"Yeah… sounds… good." Carver's voice came out a little bit breathier than he would have liked.

Nate nodded again and moved away-thank fuck. Carver turned to watch him walk to the door and open it. He kept his eyes resolutely on the back of Nate's head, and refused to look any lower to his leather covered—

"See you then," Nate called over his shoulder as he left the room, and shut the door behind him.

Carver let out the breath he had been holding. "What is wrong with me!" he cried to the empty room, as if it was going to give him an answer, or even one that he would like.

He knew exactly what was wrong with him. In a male, Nate was exactly his type-a bit dangerous and commanding. Maker knows it was what had drawn him to Fenris. Templars weren't required to take a vow of chastity, and Carver hadn't. But neither had he slept with anyone in all the years he had been a knight. Going to the Rose had just felt like sullying the order, not that he judged any knight that did. At first there had also been Fenris, then Merrill. Carver's heart had been caught up in the two of them, and touching anyone else would have felt like a betrayal of his feelings. Not that it had mattered in the end.

He closed his eyes. No, he knew what was wrong. Fenris had made a vague mention of certain hungers that would be amplified for a time from the Joining. That had to be it. He was continually ravenous for food, and couldn't seem to get enough of it. Was it nothing more than a combination of not having been with anyone in years, and the taint that ran through his veins?

Shit…

The only person Carver could really ask was Fenris, and he was _not_ doing that. He also didn't know any of the other wardens well enough to even broach the subject of… well, sex. Carver was an intensely private person, and talking about something like that with people he had just met? Not going to happen.

Carver concentrated on his breathing. He breathed through his nose, and then out his mouth, counting slowly to himself in threes. Small meditations like this had served him well with the templars. It was a way to center himself in times of crisis.

It wasn't helping.

Every time Carver breathed in he could still smell Howe in the air. A hungry need rose up inside him, and his cock instantly grew half hard. His eyes snapped open with a frustrated cry, and he turned, kicking a bedpost.

And instantly regretted it when he was painfully reminded he wasn't wearing his boots. Pain shot up his foot, killing his burgeoning erection. Carver stumbled over to the bed, and sat down heavily on the mattress, cradling his throbbing foot.

That worked. Now all he had to do was bludgeon himself whenever his desires grew out of control. At least until he could figure this thing out.

Things just kept getting better and better.

* * *

><p>Zevran leaned back against the wall and slipped further into the shadows. He watched through narrowed eyes as Aedan laughed at something that Alistair said. The two men sat at the high table in the crowded dining hall. Weisshaupt was filled to the brim with soldiers, wardens, and nobles. But it was only one noble that had Zevran's full attention.<p>

King Alistair of Ferelden, former templar and former Grey Warden—if there was such a thing.

Jealousy that Zevran hadn't felt since the Fifth Blight rose up inside him. He could almost hate Alistair—almost. There were times when Zevran could forget that he had once shared Aedan's heart with another. The memory had always been close, but had faded and dulled with time. Now that anger, that envy, was back, and Zevran hadn't been prepared for it.

He had no illusions as to what he was. He was a son of a whore, bought by the Crows and trained to murder. He had given his sexual favors freely, and had thought little of anyone other than himself. He was no one, and few would have mourned him if he had died as he had once thought he should have at the end of Aedan's blade.

Aedan Cousland was the second son of a noble family. No matter who he was now, he still carried himself with an air of privilege. He had been born to it, and it had been ingrained in him. When Aedan spoke, people listened. Zevran had seen him literally make kings, and Aedan did not truly realize his power.

He was now…

One had only to look at the way Aedan was deliberately not glancing at the rest of the room to see it. He had spent all morning locked in his study with one monarch or another, and had emerged in a foul mood.

None of them would leave.

Instead of talking to Zevran about it as he usually would, he had walked right by the elf, and gone to Alistair instead. Maker, that had hurt. It had brought up old memories, and old slights.

Morrigan's mocking smile hadn't helped.

That bitch.

For years, Zevran had held Aedan to him with sex and a sympathetic ear. Now as he watched Aedan and Alistair talking and laughing as if they had never been parted, Zevran wondered if it would ever be enough to drive the king from his warden's heart, something that Zevran had thought had happened long ago.

Now he wasn't so sure, and the doubt ate at him.

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

Zevran's head snapped to the side to see Anders grinning at him with that crooked smile of his. That wasn't good. Anders should never have gotten so close without Zevran knowing. Zevran gave him a smile in return, and made sure that it reached his eyes. There was no point in lying if your eyes gave you away. A simple mistake that so many made, and one easily corrected with practice. If he couldn't smile without guile at someone before he shoved a knife in their back, then he would make a very poor assassin indeed.

Anders moved in front of Zevran, and cut off his line of sight to Aedan. "So, I need to talk to you about something." He glanced behind him and then back again, as if he didn't want to be overheard. "Fenris and I have been talking," he said just barely loud enough to be heard over the din, "and we were wondering if you and Aedan would be interested in uh…uh… If the four of us could sometime, you know…" Anders winced. "Maker," he mumbled to himself, "I use to be good at this." He cleared his throat. "We were wondering if you and Aedan would like to join us."

As he watched Anders flounder and fidget, anger rose up inside him. "Join you?" he asked in a deadly whisper that went unnoticed by Anders.

"Yeah, you know, in bed. The four of us, having fun... in bed..." Anders winced again.

Zevran snapped. He walked forward, and got deliberately into Anders' space. "Let me make this clear, yes? The both of you wish to sleep with me, and my Aedan? Do you think I would share him with you? I have bled for him. I have lied, stolen and murdered for him. I had my cock down his throat while that bitch rode him because he didn't want to sully his precious Alistair, and you want a piece of him as well? Do you think you can take him from me?"

Anders' eyes widened with each word, and he held his hands up. "Whoa! Hold on now. That's not what I'm saying. I'm sorry if—"

"You are sorry? You are _not_ sorry. You wish to have him the way everyone wants him. But I was the one that got him in the end, yes? _Me!_ If I see either of you near him, I will slit your throats and leave you in the snow to rot when the thaw comes."

"Andraste's tits, Zev, what's the matter with you?" Anders lowered his hands. "What happened? This isn't like you."

"You wouldn't know what I am like," Zevran said. In his periphery, Zevran saw that the seats that Aedan and Alistair had occupied were now empty. They had left the room without him noticing.

He knew he was being irrational, one look at Anders' horrified and concerned face told him that much. But Anders didn't know, none of them did, they couldn't understand what he was feeling right now.

"Zev," Anders said gently. "If you need to talk—"

"No. I do not need to talk." With that, Zevran spun on his heel and stalked from the dining hall, leaving a stunned Anders behind. Maker, what had he done? He was going to be lucky if Anders didn't tell Aedan about this, and that was the last thing he needed.


	83. Chapter 83

Thank you so much for reading!

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><p>In retrospect, Carver should have seen what was going to happen when he went to the dining hall. With the way things were going recently-Maker, the way his life had always gone—it shouldn't have surprised him one little bit.<p>

The dining hall was crowded, and sounded echoed and bounced off each other to create a thunderous din. Except for the high table, everyone was seated with their own faction. Carver spotted the table that the wardens from Vigil's Keep sat at, and weaved his way through the throng.

Oghren was just as Carver remembered, and the dwarf stood on the long table, a tankard of ale in his hand that sloshed as he gestured wildly. His booming voice reached Carver's ears before he even got to the table. "—and then I said, 'Aedan, you got some balls on ya, how do ya walk?', and then he said, 'Wheelbarrow, Oghren. Lost it outside of Lake Calenhad.'" The dwarf laughed uproariously, and took a huge gulp of his ale.

A female dwarf turned red beneath her facial tattoos, and clapped her hands over her heated cheeks. "That's horrible!" she cried with a grin.

"If I'm lying, may all the hair on my ass fall off," Oghren pronounced.

An elven woman that sat next to the female dwarf, shuddered and grimaced. "Yes, because that would be a horrible thing."

Nathaniel Howe sat across from the both of them, and he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in his mirth. Carver felt the breath catch in his throat. Shit… Howe was dangerous. This was a mistake. Maybe if he talked to Aedan he could just stay in the Anderfels. It had to be better than thi—

Nate's warm grey eyes lifted and met Carver's. Nate grinned and waved Carver over. Damn it, he had no choice now. He gave Nate a weak smile and walked the rest of the way to the table. The rest of the wardens had turned their heads to watch Carver's approach. The dwarven woman scooted over on the bench, and made room for Carver to sit. He muttered his thanks, and it was lost in the noise of the room.

A plate of food was placed in front of him the moment he sat down by an unseen hand. He hesitated for a heartbeat before digging in. Maker, would he never stop being hungry? Fenris had warned him what it might be like, but he hadn't thought it would be this bad. As he sopped up his stew with a chunk of bread, he glanced up. Several pairs of eyes looked back at him, and he noticed that Oghren had climbed down off the table and was seated across from him.

Nate waited patiently for Carver to clean his plate before speaking. "Carver Hawke, these are the Grey Wardens of Vigil's Keep." He nodded to a dalish elf with long black hair that was pulled up high on his head. "This is Denerou. Best archer I've ever seen."

Denerou gave Carver a small smile, and the intricate blood writing on his face shifted. "Nate is being kind," he said in a quiet voice. "We met briefly before, in Kirkwall when Aedan came for a visit a few years ago."

Ah! Carver thought he looked familiar. "I remember you. What happened to your friends that were with you?"

The smile fell from Denerou's face. "Dead."

Great… Foot in mouth. "Sorry," Carver muttered. Not only was he wearing a plain set of breeches and tunic, but he felt unarmored in more ways than one. He hadn't felt this lost since he had first joined the templars. At least there, he'd had Cullen to talk to and help navigate his way. He had to trust that Howe would do the same.

"No need," Denerou assured him. The friendly smile was back. "I look forward to working with you."

"Oh, for the love of…" The elven female rolled her eyes. "Denerou, someday your niceness is going to bite you in the ass." She leaned forward so she could get a better look at Carver. "I'm Velanna. I'm not too fond of humans, but if you can prove to me that you're willing to do what it takes to fight the darkspawn, then we'll have no problems. Also, keep your hands to yourself, or you'll wake up one morning with them missing."

Carver gritted his teeth. "Likewise." Nate's warning about Velanna came back to him, and he tamped down the urge to lay into her.

_Make nice,_ he told himself. _You're going to be with these people for a while._

Thankfully, the dwarf next to him piped up. "I'm Sigrun. It's nice to have someone new. Are you really the Viscount Hawke's brother? Were you really a templar? I heard that you knew Anders when he was living in Kirkwall-Fenris too. I've heard a few things about you from…" She stuttered to a halt and glanced away. "Anyway, it's good to meet you."

Wait a minute… Sigrun? As in Varric's Sigrun? Maker, no… The things that Varric must have told her about him made Carver shudder. "Whatever Varric has told you, is probably not true," he said in a rush. "I…"

Sigrun clapped her hands over her mouth and laughed. She really was pretty when her eyes were sparkling with mirth. "I know. I learned a long time ago not to believe everything he tells me." The laughter died in her eyes and she sighed. Velanna touched Sigrun's shoulder gently, and glared over the top of her head at Carver, as if it was his fault that her smile had disappeared.

Damn it! Carver was not going to take the blame for whatever it was that Varric did. Fuck that.

"And you've met Oghren before," Nate interjected, thankfully drawing everyone's attention from Sigrun. "Besides Anders, Fenris, Christopher and Merrill, that is everyone who came with us to Weisshaupt." He glanced around the room and grimaced. "I wish I had brought more now."

"Is there really going to be war?" Carver asked.

Nate sighed. "Who knows. Aedan takes certain things seriously, and warden involvement is one of them. If wardens get involved in politics, then it makes the job harder for us."

"Too late for that." Oghren belched. "Ferelden has a warden king. Aedan put Alistair and Bhelen on their thrones. The boy has already meddled. We traveled here with the king, and met up with your sister and Prince Vael in Kirkwall. Things went downhill from there. Sorry, but war it is. Sodding magisters took your nephew, and tried to kill the King of Ferelden. Can't let things like that slide."

Malcolm… Carver closed his eyes, and sent a silent prayer to the Maker to keep him safe. His eyes snapped open when something occurred to him. The Eluvian… If the magisters had Malcolm, they might be able to use it to sneak into Minrathous and take him back. Zevran had contacts there. If he brought the assassin and Fenris with him—

Nate suddenly jerked forward in his seat, slamming into the edge of the table. Carver's eyes shot behind Nate, to see three men wearing tabards that bore the heraldry of the King of Ferelden.

One of them smirked down at Nate. "Sorry, Howe. Didn't see you there." The three men laughed and began to move away. "Maybe you should leave, Howe," the man called back behind him. "Being a traitor is in your blood. We wouldn't want you running to Minrathous and betraying everyone."

Red descended in Carver's vision. Before he knew what he was doing, he had shot to his feet, and gone over the table, sending plates of food crashing to the floor. He grabbed the one that spoke by the shoulder and spun him around, slamming a fist into his face. There was the satisfying crunch of bone as his nose broke, and blood spurted over Carver's knuckles.

"Want to say that again!" Carver shouted. He gripped him by his tabard and threw another punch that snapped the man's head back. Rage had its tendrils deep in Carver's mind. He couldn't think—only act. Dimly he was aware of the scrape of chairs and benches around him, and the cloying hands of the man's friends as they tried to pull Carver off.

With his lips pulled back in a feral grimace, Carver turned and slammed the man bodily down on the table next to them, the crash sending reverberations down the length of the wood. The urge to beat him senseless was unrelenting. Carver couldn't stop hitting him, even when he felt the little finger on his right hand pop out of joint.

Arms wrapped around Carver's waist and hauled him back. The scent of leather and male assailed his nostrils, and for the first time, Carver began to realize what he'd done. He rolled his eyes to the side, and met Nate's gaze. "What's wrong with me?" he whispered.

"Joining," Nate said flatly. "Help me get him out of here," he called over his shoulder to the other wardens.

Carver's eyes turned forward and landed on the man he had almost beaten to death. More men wearing the tabard of the King of Ferelden gathered, some of them helping their fallen comrade, while others eyed Carver and the wardens as they backed away.

Maker… What had he done?

Guilt and shame swamped him, and Carver made a distressed noise deep in his throat. The arms that were pulling him back through the dining hall tightened.

"Not your fault," Nate muttered. "I should have… Damn it. I should have seen it coming."

No, Carver thought as they left the dining hall. No, like so much else in his life, this could be only laid at Carver's door.

* * *

><p>"Don't tell my sister," Carver said softly. He would not beg, even in this, he wouldn't beg.<p>

Anders cradled Carver's hand in his own. Carver sat on the edge of his bed, with Anders kneeling on the floor in front of him. He had popped the knuckle back in its socket, and was now sending a healing spell through Carver's hand to knit the abused flesh back together.

"I promise," Anders whispered. "But she's going to hear about it."

Carver flinched, and it wasn't from pain. Of course she was. And when she did, Marian would march directly to his room, and tell him why he needed to go back to Kirkwall. She wouldn't care that he was a warden now, or even a grown man. All she would see was that her baby brother had gotten into a fight, and couldn't take care of himself.

When Anders was done, he stood up and smoothed out his robes. "You need to find an outlet, Carver. It takes a little while for the Joining to settle down. Fenris decided he was going to take on the whole of Vigil's Keep in the practice yard before he calmed down."

Carver gave a bitter laugh. "So I'm supposed to bash skulls until I'm sated? You make it sound like sex."

"Well… Sex can help too, if you want to know the truth," Anders said indelicately.

"So I'm supposed to find someone to fuck, and that'll make it okay that I almost killed someone?" Carver asked harshly. "Fuck you, Anders. Thank you for healing me, but fuck you."

Anders held his hands up. "Maker, everyone is so touchy today. Earlier Zevra…" He trailed off. "Oh… Oh, shit." He glanced over at Nate who had been largely silent since Anders had entered the room. "Zev took my head off earlier. I think I need to have a talk with Aedan, excuse me." He hurried from the room and left, shutting the door behind him.

Carver buried his face in his hands. He couldn't look at Nate, not now. The Maker be damned scent was filling the room, and it was driving Carver insane.

"I'm sorry, Carver," Nate began. "If I'd been paying attention, I could have prevented this. I've only been your commander for a few hours, and I've already failed you."

Failed him? Fuck… Carver had failed himself-as usual. But as Nate's gravelly voice rolled over his skin like a caress that was the furthest thing from Carver's mind.

He couldn't go down this road again. He was so tired of wanting someone, only to have it blow up in his face. "I'm going to ask Aedan to let me stay in the Anderfels," he muttered beneath his hands. Far away from his sister. Far away from Fenris and Anders. Far away from Merrill and Christopher. Far away from Nathaniel Howe and the danger he posed.

If he had been looking, Carver would have seen the disappointment in Nate's eyes. "I… I understand. I'm sorry."

Carver flinched when he heard the door open and close again.

* * *

><p>But two days went by, and he still hadn't gone to talk to Aedan. No, instead he was watching Nate like some sort of pervert from the shadows of the doorway that led to the practice yard. Denerou, Nate, and Sebastian Vael, were having some sort of impromptu archery contest. Bets were being placed around them as Nate notched an arrow and sighted down the shaft.<p>

Carver huddled deeper into his fur cloak, and leaned his head back against the freezing stone. A meeting was scheduled in three days to talk of war. Each monarch and representative were supposed to attend. Since Carve r had been at Arlathan, he had been told to come as well.

So far, no one had tried to retaliate against Carver for what he'd done in the dining hall. To be fair, he kept mostly to his room, only coming out to seek Nate and watch him, before stomping back to his room. Every meal, he would open his door to find a plate of food and a tankard of ale sitting in front of his door. He didn't know who was doing it, but he suspected it might be Marian. He was avoiding Marian as well, and hadn't opened the door for her each time she had come.

Carver didn't trust himself.

If the Joining needed time to settle, then Carver was going to give it time—alone. He went through wild mood swings that turned rapidly from deep lust, to intense anger. Meditating did nothing. Neither did taking his cock in hand. But that was its own shame, and the last thing Carver wanted to dwell on.

"If you look at his ass even harder, his leathers might burn off," said a voice next to him.

Carver groaned and closed his eyes in resignation. "What do you want, Isabela?"

"Want?" Isabela asked in surprise. "Oh, honey, I want so many things, but I'll settle on you telling me what's wrong with you? Marian is pretty upset, and I don't like it when my friends are upset."

"None of your business," Carver gritted out. "None of my sister's either."

Isabela clucked her tongue. "Now, you know that everything is my business. Why are you being so silly?" She paused, and Carver tensed. "But now that I think on it, I know exactly what's wrong. Poor, Carver. You want to fuck the Warden-Commander. Or have him fuck you. Either way, you're barking up the wrong dick. He doesn't have any interest in men."

Carver felt the blood drain out of his face. He hadn't known until that moment that he had been holding onto a small hope. Now that it was gone, Carver mourned its loss. His chest ached, and he rubbed his fist into it through the furs. "How… How do you know that?"

"He told me. He and I had an understanding a few years back. Too bad, he was quite good. In fact—"

Carver lurched into action. He grabbed her by her own fur cloak and pushed her up against the doorway. "Why do you have to be such a bitch? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Isabela tilted her head to the side. She wasn't intimated in the slightest. "I may be a bitch, but I am truly trying to help you. You wallow, Carver, and when you do it, you take everyone down with you-people who care about you. Your sister has too many worries without adding you to them."

"I didn't ask for your opinion," Carver snapped. "My sister doesn't need me. She has Cullen, and everyone else around her."

"That's where you're wrong, sweet cheeks. We need Marian, even Cullen. Marian, she needs _you_. Maker, you're not too bright at times, are you? Look, I've said my piece. Forget about Howe, and go to your sister. Now unless you're going to channel all that lovely rage into some hot, up against the wall sex, you need to let me go before I cut your balls off." To emphasize her point, he pushed the tip of the dagger that she had in her hand against Carver's crotch. He hadn't even felt her unsheathe it.

"And what if I said I wanted to fuck you?"

Isabela threw her head back and laughed. "Sorry, pumpkin. We both know that you'd be lying, and I don't fuck people that really want someone else. I need a person's undivided attention."

"Even if they don't have yours?" Carver spat.

"Well, no one is perfect," Isabela shrugged. She glanced over Carver's shoulder. "And here comes the white knight to save you from my nefarious clutches. Or was that nefarious pussy? I can never remember."

Carver glanced behind him to see Nate striding towards them through the snow. His eyes shot back towards Isabela, where his hands were over the furs covering her breasts, and how his body was pushed against her.

This… was not good.


	84. Chapter 84

A/N: short update tonight. ^_^

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><p>Aedan scowled at Alistair. "Fuck… So what you're telling me is that I'm screwed, and this is going to happen anyway? Damn it, Alistair, didn't you get enough of war during the Blight?" Aedan sank back into his chair, and propped his elbows on his massive desk. He glared across the wood at Alistair, who looked entirely too comfortable in his own chair.<p>

"Sorry, Aedan. Look, if you don't want the Wardens involved then I can't do any more to convince you. But we are going to keep our own troops here." Alistair gave him a disarming grin.

Aedan's scowl only deepened. "How the fuck is that not involving us? I know that Weisshaupt is in the Anderfels, but Medwin can't just decide to hand over my fortress. Fuck all of you and the damned crowns you wear."

"Actually, he can. The Grey Wardens only have as much as the nation they are outposted in decide to give them. How much money have I poured into the Vigil over the past several years?" He held up his hand to forestall any argument. "Not, that I am complaining, mind you. Money well spent, time and again. But that doesn't change the fact that you're stuck with us for the time being. If the Wardens don't wish to march on Minrathous with us, then don't go."

Aedan slammed his fist on his desk. Even though Alistair hadn't seen Aedan in years, the flair of temper didn't make him even so much as flinch. "Fuck you, fuck Bhelen, fuck, Hawke, fuck Vael, fuck Medwin, fuck Wynne, fuck Sten, fuck Leliana, fuck every single one of you for putting me into this position."

"You seem angry, Aedan." Alistair said dryly.

"And fuck your stupid fucking jokes! Don't you people get it? You're being used-all of you. Flemeth is up to something, and by the Maker I'm stopping it right here."

Alistair's face hardened, and it took Aedan aback. Maker, Alistair had settled into being king. As much as Aedan hated to admit it, he was really missing the Alistair that he could ride roughshod over. He could really use that guy right about now.

"You're acting like a selfish child," Alistair snapped. "Oh, boo hoo, my precious fortress is being overrun. Well, fuck you too, Aedan. You have Weisshaupt on the sufferance of King Medwin. If he wants to park an army in your bedchamber, then he can and will. Tevinter has not only insulted and threatened his sovereignty, but the sovereignty of Ferelden, Kirkwall, Starkhaven, and Orzammar, not to mention what they did to the Circle of the Magi, and the Divine herself. So you can whine all you want. If you don't want to join the ball, then you don't have put on the damned gown. No one is going to make you."

Aedan reared back and blinked. "You… You…" His lips twitched as he fought a smile, and lost. "Gown? Did you just equate war to going to a ball?"

Alistair grinned. It made him look younger, and brought back memories of a more naïve Alistair. "You were a noble. You know what those blighted balls are like. So my analogy is apt."

The grin slipped off of Aedan's face. "Everything is so fucked up, Alistair. I… I'm not going to get into it all now-that'll have to wait for the meeting in a few days. It's just…" He scrubbed at his face, suddenly bone weary. "Zev won't talk to me, and I haven't seen him for days. I just found out that two of my best Wardens are leaving. They're going to join the war, and I can't stop them. I've found myself more than once wishing that I could go back to how things were during the Blight. What in the Void is that? I miss the fucking _Blight_, that's how all to shit I feel everything is going."

Alistair delicately cleared his throat. "Uh… Zev isn't talking to you? Do you think you're so angry because you're not getting any se—"

Aedan held up his hands. "I am not the kind of guy that needs sex often or else I go insane. I can do my job."

"Uh huh…" Alistair said. "You're forgetting that I was with you during the Blight. You were more at peace with yourself when Zev was around." He hooked his index fingers together. "You two are part of the same whole. Neither one of you seems to function well without the other."

Aedan shook his head in astonishment. "Do you seriously think I was calmer? Zev drove me insane." It occurred to Aedan that he and Alistair had never talked about his relationship with Zevran, not really. It felt strange to do it now.

"You loved it," Alistair accused. "From the moment he opened his eyes and looked at you, you were smitten, admit it."

Scratch strange, this was going to become awkward.

"Maybe," Aedan said reluctantly. "Zev has a knack for figuring people out. He use to follow me around, pestering me about…" He trailed off as he sank into memories and things better left unsaid.

"About me?"

Aedan's startled eyes shot up and met Alistair's knowing gaze. "About a year after I became king I figured it out, you know." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I might have been slow on the uptake, but I've learned. I realized all those little touches you would give me, and the way you would look at me… I'm so glad that you found happiness with Zev. I felt guilty for a long time, before I realized that it didn't matter."

Aedan opened his eyes and blew out a slow breath. "Thank you. I've always worried that you would think less of me if you found out."

"Me? I was worried that you harbored some resentment for me, because I was unable to return your feelings." Alistair laughed, and something inside Aedan loosened. Maker, he should have talked to Alistair about this years ago.

"Zev helped me get over it," Aedan admitted.

Alistair gave him a wry smile. "So we all heard at camp, several times. The two of you did more to my poor virgin ears than walking into the Pearl could ever do. "

Aedan snorted. "Zev isn't what I would call quiet."

"Neither are you." Alistair rolled his eyes, and then he sighed. "Look, hunt Zev down, force him to tell you what's wrong, do whatever the two of you do together, and calm down. This war is going to happen. Whether the Wardens join us is up for debate."

"You've become a bossy little bitch, haven't you?" Aedan said without malice. He knew what was wrong with Zev. Anders had come to him a few days ago, and told him that he thought that Zev was reacting badly to the Joining, but Aedan couldn't pin him down to help him. When the former Crow didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Aedan just had to wait for Zevran to come to him.

Morrigan on the other hand, had acted as if nothing had happened. Some people the Joining did nothing to. It was capricious that way. Who lived, who died, who needed time for the Joining to settle, and who didn't. The Joining didn't care.

Once a day, Aedan would go to Morrigan's room to play with his son. He knew that Morrigan was planning on leaving with the boy as soon as she deemed it was safe, but Aedan was going to fight her on it. Once he had his son in his arms, he wasn't able to let him go.

"Goes with the crown," Alistair shrugged. Then he sobered. "You're also going to have to stand before more than a few governing bodies of Thedas, and explain why the Wardens don't seem to think they have to tell us what's going on. Maker, Aedan, you don't have to do everything on your own anymore."

Aedan looked away. "I know. I'm not use to having to answer to anyone for my actions. But you know as well as I do, that there is a reason the Wardens are usually so quiet about their activities. I can't spend time playing the diplomat every single time my men want to take a piss in another country."

"Save it for the meeting." Alistair got to his feet. "I was just giving you a heads up, so you wouldn't be caught off guard when the questions come."

Oh, there were going to be questions all right. Aedan was sure of it. He had decided he was going to lay it all out- Fenris, the Architect, Arlathan, Flemeth, everything. If the rulers currently squatting in his fortress wanted a war, then they needed to know what they were getting into.

"Alistair," Aedan called out, and he paused at the door. "Thanks. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, you cranky bastard," Alistair threw over his shoulder. "Next time, let's not go so long before we get together, all right. Being on top is lonely."

Aedan sighed. "Tell me about it."

Alistair laughed and opened the door. "Hey, Zev. We were just talking about you."

Aedan's head jerked up, and he half rose out of his chair. "Zev?"

Zevran pushed by Alistair, and Aedan didn't miss the small glare that Zev gave the king. He stopped in the middle of the room, and turned his back on Alistair. "Shut the door on your way out," he told the king in a deadly voice.

Alistair gave Aedan a worried look before closing the door behind him.

Zevran waited until he heard the soft click of the latch before launching into Aedan. "Did you fuck him yet? Or do I need to keep away some more until you do?"

"What?" Aedan sat down heavily in his chair. "Is this why you've been hiding from me? Because you think I was going to fuck Alistair? What the fuck, Zev? I know that you might be having problems with the Joining, but I thought you knew me better than that."

Zevran gave a wild laugh, and the hair on the back of Aedan's neck stood up at the sound. He had never heard Zevran make a sound like that before. It was full of pain, and anger. "Then Fenris?" Zevran strode over to Aedan's desk and slapped his hands on the wood. "Anders came to me, you know. He wanted to know if we would be interested in fucking the two of them. Did you do it already? Did they go behind my back and come to you?"

Aedan had to tread carefully. He knew what Anders had meant now. Zevran wasn't acting like himself. He rarely came right out and told Aedan what was bothering him like this, and especially not in such a confrontational way. "No, I didn't. Did I pass your test, Zev? You wanted to see what I would do if you left me for a time, didn't you?" He leaned forward. "When I'm not in meetings, or looking for you, I've been left with my blighted hand. No one else will do for me, Zev. How many times do I need to tell you that? How many times do I need to show you that, before you'll believe me?" He kept his voice even and low, as if he was speaking to a frightened animal that could attack.

The two men locked eyes, and it was Zevran that looked away first. "I'm sorry, yes? Him being here… I…"

Aedan touched Zevran's hands, and pried then away from the desk, twining their fingers together. "Zev… I'm lost without you. Alistair was so long ago. What I felt then for him, is only a fraction of what I feel for you. We have a date to keep, remember?"

For the first time since he had entered Aedan's study, Zevran smiled. "We see how deep we can go, yes? Our blades will be sharp, and we will put the fear of the Maker into every darkspawn we encounter."

Aedan squeezed Zevran's hands. "When we aren't killing, we'll fuck, then go kill some more. Then we'll reach an Archdemon, and slay it before it can even rise. We'll carve our names into its bones, so that the ones that come after us will know what we did."

A tear slipped down Zevran's cheek. "You and I together in the end, yes?"

Aedan lifted Zevran's hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles. "Always," he breathed.


	85. Chapter 85

A/N: So I am putting myself on a schedule. Apologies to those that are going to see this more than once.

Monday: What Was Lost will be updated.

Tuesday: Sword of Mercy.

The rest of the week is going to be dedicated to NaNoWriMo.

When nano is over, I'll change it so that everything gets updated more frequently. That way, you don't have to wonder, and everything will get worked on. ^_^

* * *

><p>Carver yanked his hands away from Isabela as if they were burned. She grinned at him, and the smile only grew wider when Nate approached, a scowl on his face.<p>

"Oh, how cute. Little Nate is going to be all protective." She raised an eyebrow at Nate when he reached them. "Why do I get the feeling I was lied to?" she muttered under her breath.

"Carver," Nate said, completely ignoring Isabela. "Would you care to come with me? We need to talk."

Carver glanced from Nate to Isabela, then back again. He really didn't want to talk to Howe, not with his emotions still raw. But he didn't see any legitimate way out of it, and Nate had a determined set to his jaw. He nodded and moved towards the door that led back into the fortress, Nate on his heels.

"Don't mind me," Isabela called after them. "I'll just stay out here, and think about how much Wardens irritate me."

With Weisshaupt so full, the large fortress was much warmer on the inside. Almost every room was brimming with soldiers, mages, and Wardens, and fires roared continually throughout the day and night to heat the rooms. Carver stripped off his cloak, and draped it over one arm. His fingers and nose burned from the contrast of the frigid air of the Anderfels, and the warmth of Weisshaupt, and he flexed his hands.

Nate caught up to him, and the older man didn't speak a word as he led them down the crowded corridors. It was only when they turned a corner and the crowd had trickled down to nothing, that Nate spoke.

"Why haven't you talked to Aedan yet?"

Carver stuttered to a halt. "I… I…" he sputtered at Nate's back. This wasn't what he'd been expecting. Or more, it should have been, but Carver wasn't himself lately, and was caught off guard.

Nate turned to face him. "It's been days now. If you're having second thoughts and still want to come to the Vigil, then you are more than welcome. I just… I need to know where we stand."

_You and me both_, Carver thought to himself with no small amount of self-deprecation.

"I needed some time to myself," Carver answered instead. "My life has been turned upside down, and I wasn't… I'm not handling it very well." There, that was close enough to the truth to not be a complete lie.

Nate nodded, and some of his dark hair slid over his right shoulder. Carver's fingers twitched, and this time it had nothing to do with the cold, and more to do with the urge to touch those strands to see if they felt as silky as they looked.

"I understand that need. I wasn't given much choice in my own Joining. I had…" Nate blew out a breath. "I had just come back to Ferelden from the Free Marches, and had found that not only was my father dead, but my family had been disgraced." He laughed wryly at the memory. "I was young and brash, and when I had heard that the very man responsible for killing my father had been given his arldom and keep, I immediately went to the Vigil to kill him, and avenge my father. I was careless, and was caught. Aedan had had every right to hang me, but instead, he made me a Warden. I was lucky, though. The Joining did not affect me as much as it can in others. Still… I spent weeks being angry at everything and everyone. Where ever I looked, I saw what my father's arrogance had wrought."

"Children shouldn't have to pay for the sins of the parents," Carver said without thinking, and immediately wanted to take the words back.

Nate's eyes widened imperceptibly. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off when someone shouted down the hall.

"Hawke and Howe… Fancy seeing the two of you together. We've been looking for you, Hawke."

Carver's head whipped around to see six men advancing towards them. They each wore the tabard of the King of Ferelden, and Carver's heart began beating rapidly. Maker, he knew there was going to be a reckoning for what he had done in the dining hall.

His cloak slipped from his arm to pool at his feet, and he hands tightened into fists. The odds were poor, but if it was time to pay for what he had done, then Carver wasn't going to go down without a showing of his own.

Nate had other ideas.

He grabbed Carver by the arm, and yanked him back. "Run, damn it! We can't fight the king's men. Carver, we need to go."

"You go," Carver hissed. "This isn't your fight."

"It _is_ my fight, you stubborn bastard. You're still one of my men, and I don't leave one of my own behind."

As Carver looked into the steely grey of Nate's eyes, he realized what the other man wasn't telling him. Nate would be blamed for anything that happened, just as he was probably blamed for Carver attacking another in the dining hall.

Guilt swamped him. _Foolish_, Carver berated himself. _Why didn't I see it before?_

With one last look at the men moving towards them, Carver grabbed Nate by the hand.

Together they ran.

* * *

><p>It was Nate who found the small closet in the corridor, and the two of them tumbled inside. Nate shut the door a few seconds before they heard the pounding boots of their pursuers race pass.<p>

It was dark in the cramped space, the only sliver of light coming in from just under the door. Carver's back was pressed sharply into a low shelf, and he shifted to ease the discomfort.

That was a mistake.

The front half of his body brushed against Nate, and Carver could feel warm breath on his cheek. The scent of leather and male filled his nostrils, and he reached behind him to grip the edge of the shelf with shaking hands.

His punishment wasn't going to involve being beaten senseless by a group of men looking for revenge. Instead, it was going to be trapped in a dark space with the man he couldn't stop thinking of.

He would almost have preferred the beating.

Nate tilted his head to the side, and yes… his hair was that silky. It brushed over Carver's neck, and he bit the inside of his cheek to suppress the moan that welled up.

"I'll talk to Alistair and Aedan," Nate whispered.

Oh, Maker… His raspy voice slid over Carver, and at first he didn't process what was being said to him.

"We'll figure out a way for you to make reparations, so that this doesn't happen again."

Carver didn't trust himself to speak, so he remained silent. He knew what Nate was saying to him was important, but he would be damned if he could figure out why. Not with the man so close. In the near dark, Carver felt like he was surrounded by Nate-his scent, the heat from his body, his breath in Carver's ear.

Boot steps thundered down the hall again, and they could hear the men shouting as they searched for them. Carver and Nate both stiffened, which had the unfortunate effect of bringing their bodies in closer contact.

Specifically with Carver's erection.

Carver closed his eyes in mortification. He had to say something—anything-to explain it away. There was no chance that Nate didn't feel it, not with the way it was pressing incessantly against the other man's thigh.

"The Joining," Carver blurted out. Better this shame than Nate knowing the full truth. "Templars… We… They…" He swallowed, thankful for the darkness. "The lyrium affects our minds and bodies. Small things at first, but for some of us, it makes it hard to… We don't talk about it, but it's understood… The Joining seems to have fixed that problem for me," he finished lamely.

Carver was a practiced liar. He'd had to be, with his family. Little white lies that was close to the truth, but not the whole. Why couldn't his friends come to visit him? Why were his sisters so strange and standoffish? What did his father do to earn a living? So many things Carver had had to lie about in his life.

He'd always hated doing it, just as he hated it now.

"Did I interrupt you and Isabela?" Nate asked quietly.

Lies upon lies… Carver didn't want to talk about Marian and what Isabela had told him. "No!" He snapped his mouth shut when he realized he'd been too loud. "No," he said quieter, "I've known Isabela for years. She's a good friend of my sister's, and I know what she's like. I don't do casual sex."

"I don't either," Nate admitted. "I frustrated her because of that. I thought I could handle it, but I hadn't been prepared for how reality would be. When she wanted to bring another man into our bed, I began backing off. She took the hint, and found someone more to her tastes."

Carver hadn't known that, but he also had stayed out of what his sister's friends were doing when he had become a Templar. They had never been his friends, not really. Fenris had been the exception, and when he had left, Carver had no longer had any reason to seek the others out.

"She said that you didn't like men." Carver didn't know why he'd said that, other than to use it as an excuse to keep Nate talking, and Carver's mind off of how close the other man was.

"Did she?" Nate laughed a deep rumble that reverberated down Carver's chest.

Nate moved away, and Carver didn't stop the relieved sigh that escaped his lips. The door to the closet was cracked open, and Carver blinked against the sudden light.

"I'll go first," Nate said. "Count to one hundred and then leave after me. Head straight to your room and lock the door. I'll go and straighten this out with Alistair and Aedan. There's going to be fighting enough, and we shouldn't be going after each other."

Carver nodded. He felt a bit of a coward for running and hiding, but he understood why Nate was asking it of him. Still, the knowledge of why didn't make him feel any better about it.

Nate opened the door wider and stepped out into the corridor. When he didn't move at first, Carver stared at his back in askance.

"I lied," Nate said. He glanced over his shoulder at Carver, his hand gripping the door latch tightly. "I do sleep with men. I only told her that so she wouldn't think there was a chance that another could have been brought into our bed."

With that pronouncement, he shut the door on Carver's stunned face.

* * *

><p>"Again!"<p>

Fenris snarled and slashed with his sword. The blade swiped through air, and smacked into the slush and mud, splattering Fenris' already mud covered tabard.

Rhys reappeared in a flash of light and scowled. "You are not doing what I told you to. You will see me easily if only you would allow yourself to fly free. If you wish me defeat me, little elf, then you need to open yourself."

Fenris shook his sword free of the mud. The two of them had been in this small courtyard for hours, and had made a complete mess of the ground. Snow had been compacted and melted into the ground from their boots, creating a freezing mud that Fenris had a hard time keeping his footing in.

Anders was watching them from a small bench off to the side, his eyes narrowed in anger on Fenris' behalf.

Two days ago, Rhys had come to Fenris to tell him that he wanted to teach Fenris how to use his brands to their full capability. No matter how much Fenris hated the elvhen, he knew that it would be foolish to turn him down.

Now he was regretting that decision.

Rhys was a master at what he did, reappearing and disappearing in flashes of blue light. Fenris hadn't been able to touch him once, and it frustrated him to no end. It didn't help that Rhys would taunt Fenris, goading his anger on.

"I don't know what you mean," Fenris said between gritted teeth. "How many times must I tell you that I cannot do the things you do? This is a waste of time."

Rhys pointed at Fenris with one of the swords he held in each hand. "And how many times must I tell you that isn't so? You are of the ones dedicated to Fen'Harel now. Did you not ask for this?"

Ask for it? The blood roared in Fenris' ears. "I might have asked for the markings, but I did not—"

Rhys waved his protests away with the tip of his sword. "You have to ask for it. You have to be willing in order to live through the dedication. Fen'Harel will not take those that are forced into it."

The roaring increased, until Fenris could barely hear his own thoughts. "I fought for the right, but I did not know…"

"Ah… Then that is why you were damaged. The magisters, they twist everything. Some of us do fight for the right, while others gain Fen'Harel's favor with other means. Do they not teach the elves anything?"

"Maybe if the elvhen didn't decide to abandon the elves, then we would know," Anders called. "How about you stop being a jackass and explain yourself? Might make a nice change."

If anything, Rhys looked more amused than offended. He sheathed his sword, and gestured for Fenris to do the same. "Then I will explain. Maybe then you will understand what you are doing wrong."

Fenris pulled a piece of scrap linen from a pouch at his waist, and began wiping down his sword.

"I am not boasting when I say that those of us dedicated to Fen'Harel are the most feared warriors of the elvhen," Rhys began.

Fenris snorted, and inspected his sword as he listened.

"We embody the traits of Fen'Harel-cunning, intelligence, and most of all, a freedom of will. He saw that what his brothers and sisters were doing was wrong, and would rip the world apart. The Forgotten Ones and the Creators wouldn't cease their battles, and all of creation was suffering because of it. So he tricked them, telling each that he had a way to stop the other. In the end, he trapped them all away, stopping the fighting for all of eternity.

"We brand ourselves with lyrium, so that we may walk between worlds as Fen'Harel has done." Rhys lightly touched the markings at his throat. "There are no barriers, we can move through the Fade, or we can walk all over the waking world using the Eluvians. We are not organized, but we acknowledge the strongest among us. Some of us are liars, tricksters, and thieves. While others are protectors, warriors, and seek knowledge."

"What are you?" Fenris asked, although he was sure he already knew the answer.

Rhys spread his arms wide. "All of it. Those of Fen'Harel crave it all. We are neither good nor evil, but something in between. We are feared, and we are respected. I do what I wish, because the Creators have made me this way. I do what I wish, because the Dread Wolf marked me when I was young, giving me an inquisitive mind, and gifting me with the talent to kill swiftly with my blades. I asked for this, I wanted it."

"So where do your beliefs leave you when you are ordered to come to Weisshaupt?" Fenris asked. "Where do they leave you, when you are told that you and the others at Arlathan were to hide from the rest of the world?"

"You misunderstand me." Rhys lowered his arms. "I am not chaos. I have come here because I wished it. I followed the others into the endless sleep because I had thought it was the right thing to do. My brothers and sisters will make their own choices, but in the end, we always serve Fen'Harel, and we have agreed that we feel his touch on you." He flashed Fenris a grin. "I am afraid that means you are stuck with me, my friend."

"Lovely," Fenris murmured.

"Do you see what I am trying to tell you?" Rhys asked. "You are afraid. You are afraid of knowing how to use your markings to their full potential, because you believe it will change you. You must be fearless. It's only when you fall, that you learn whether you can fly."

The world narrowed, and the edges of Fenris' vision turned white. "What did you say?" he rasped. He vaguely heard Anders' gasp, and the squelch of mud as the mage got to his feet and hurried over to them.

"Through adversity, and conquering your fears, you can reach your potential," Rhys reiterated. "When you fall, that is when you learn if you can fly. It is one of Fen'Harel's main teachings."

Fenris slowly turned his head to meet Anders astonished eyes.

"Flemeth," Anders whispered.

And so much… so much over the past few months, the past few years, slotted into place. Fenris was dizzy from the realization, from the amount of secrecy and manipulation. He reached out blindly and caught Anders' hand in his own.

The Dalish kept statues of wolves that represented Fen'Harel, turned away from their camps as a reminder to be wary of deception.

Fenris knew that none of them had been wary enough.


	86. Chapter 86

Thank you to everyone who is reviewing! And a thank you to those that are reading!

* * *

><p>The great dining hall at Weisshaupt had been cleared, and several tables had been pushed together to form a single large one. It wasn't ideal, but frankly, Fenris didn't think that Aedan cared anymore.<p>

Those that had gone to Arlathan were seated at one end near Aedan and Zevran. Fenris' fingers fiddled with the bracelet that Merrill had made for him, while his eyes scanned those seated down the tables. There wasn't a single group or nation that wasn't represented in some fashion, and it was unnerving to see it.

Even the blighted Qunari were here. Fenris knew that it said a lot that the Qunari was no longer Sten, but Arishok now. The Qunari did not elevate one to Arishok lightly.

Anders leaned over to Fenris and whispered in his ear. "Think Aedan will just glare at them all and they'll go home?"

"I think he will try," Fenris said reluctantly. "But if doing it one on one hasn't worked, there is little to think it will succeed now. No, I believe that Aedan will have to see what we all do, that the magisters have taken things too far."

Aedan's chair scraped back as he stood, and Anders settled back in his seat. Fenris' fingers ran over and over the tightly woven hair on his wrist as he watched Aedan cross his massive arms, and wait for the hall to become silent.

Intimidation it would be then. Aedan was nothing if not persistent.

He also became tired of waiting. "Shut it!" His voice boomed in the hall and everyone fell silent, their eyes turning towards him. "Now we're going to do this fucking thing properly," he announced.

"You seem testy, Aedan," Alistair drawled.

Fenris kicked Anders under the table when the mage burst out in surprised laughter.

"Why don't we start with you, Alistair," Aedan said silkily. "We're going to go down the line and you are going to tell everyone who you are and why you are here. No lies… No bullshit. This isn't the time for it. Everything is going to get laid all out in the open. You came to my house, so you play by my rules. Are we clear?"

There was a general murmuring of agreement and Alistair stood. He gave a small bow. "Alistair, King of Ferelden. The magisters tried to kill my heirs and me a few months past. The way I saw it, I had two choices, either pretend that the threat was dead along with the assailant, or go to Tevinter and have them explain in person why they thought that was a good idea." He raised an eyebrow at Aedan. "Good enough? Or do I need to recite the Chant while standing on my head?"

Aedan rolled his eyes. "Please don't…"

"Viscount Marian Hawke, Kirkwall." Marian got to her feet, and Cullen rose as well. "My son was stolen out of his bed. I was told that if I played along with the magisters, that he would not be harmed. I do not stand idly by when I'm threatened."

"Not only did we bring the might of Kirkwall with us, but we brought Templars as well," Cullen added. "I did not ask for them to follow us, but they volunteered. A child was taken by blood mages, and they could not sit aside and watch it happen."

When they sat, the Arishok rose. "I am the Arishok. We are here to witness and aid in the downfall of our common enemy. We have claimed Par Vollen as our own, by right of conquest. Tevinter nips at us like flies, always buzzing. They are an annoyance, but even the smallest of flies can cause a swarm." He slid his eyes over to Marian. "The previous Arishok did not understand this. I will not make the same mistake." Having said as much as he was ever going to, he retook his seat.

Prince Vael, and Wynne rose in turn, and when they had said their piece, it was time for King Bhelen.

"King Bhelen, Orzammar. I—"

"No, bullshit, Bhelen," Aedan warned. "Tell them what you told me."

Bhelen narrowed his eyes at Aedan. "Don't try to intimidate me, boy. I'll say what I need to in my own good time." He stroked his fingers through his beard grimly. "Orzammar is gone. When we uncovered their plan, the magisters let the darkspawn into the city. We had to retreat into the tunnels to Kal-Sharok."

The room, which had been quiet before, became still. Then everyone spoke at once.

"Shut it!" Aedan yelled. "Let him fucking finish!" When everyone had grown quiet once more, Aedan nodded for Bhelen to continue.

"They came for the lyrium," Bhelen said. "When their plot to usurp me and put someone more to their liking in place didn't go like they had planned, they let the darkspawn in, cordoned off the city, and took what lyrium we had. If I hadn't…" Bhelen cleared his throat. "If I hadn't opened up talks with Kal-Sharok, then we would have had no place to turn to. What you see of my forces are all that is left of the dwarves of Orzammar. Kal-Sharok has pledged troops to our cause. If they did that to Orzammar, it won't be long until they turn to our brother city that sits so close to their borders." Bhelen sank wearily to his seat.

Fenris hadn't been able to figure out why the dwarves would have left for the surface for the flimsy excuse that Bhelen had given them. Now, it made a horrifying sense. He slipped his hand under the table, seeking and finding Anders' fingers. As he gripped the mage's hand tightly, a foreboding tripped its way down his spine. With the amount of lyrium they had taken, the magisters could be plotting anything-none of it good.

Next to Bhelen sat three people that Fenris felt didn't deserve to be here. He still couldn't believe that Aedan had let them out of the dungeon.

The Divine Cato stood, and Gaius rose with him. Feynriel stayed in his seat, but his eyes were filled with trepidation.

"I am the Divine Cato," the old man smiled, and his pale eyes sparked with an inner light. "Some of you will know me best as the Black Divine. The Archon is insane and-"

Fenris snorted, and Cato turned those kind eyes on the elf. "You are correct, my friend. More insane, I should say. Not only has he sent Tevinter headlong into a war that will cost untold lives, but he thinks he can reproduce the very thing that doomed Tevinter in the first place. I do not wish to see my countrymen killed in a war that is not of their making. I am here to plead on their behalf. Take Minrathous if you must, but do not destroy everything." He glanced next to him to Gaius. "We can have a new Archon, one that would be more willing to work with the other countries of Thedas."

Gaius inclined his head and they both sat down.

Isabela as someone that had contacts in Rivain, and Varric who had contacts almost everywhere else, went next. They were followed by Nathaniel Howe, who had said little beyond introducing himself.

Then came Leliana.

"My name is Sister Leliana," she began. "I am a Seeker. I have come on the behest of the Divine Justinia V. She felt it was time that certain truths were made known. She—"

The door to the hall banged open, and everyone turned towards it, some of them half rising out of their seats.

"Let me," Flemeth said as she strode into the room, her robes flaring out behind her. The doors slammed shut by an unseen hand. "It is about me, after all."

Morrigan, who had remained largely silent, rose to her feet. "Flemeth…" she said in a shocked whisper.

Rhys, who had been listening to the proceedings-thanks to Zevran translating for him-threw back his head and laughed.

"I'm glad you think this is so amusing," Morrigan snapped.

Ignoring her, Rhys got to his feet and gave Flemeth a bow with a grand flourish. "Tales will be told of your cunning," he said in Arcanum and with no small amount of amusement.

"Flemeth…" Aedan said. "Mind telling me what happened to the guards I had posted in front of the doors?"

"They're taking a short nap, none the wiser," she assured him. She turned her head and flashed a smiled at the room. "Aedan Cousland… You did exceed my expectations—all of you did."

She pointed at Fenris. "You brought back what had long been lost." Then she gestured at Morrigan. "Not only Arlathan, but you brought back someone that should have never left the Fade. A creature of beauty." She inclined her head at Anders. "If it weren't for you, then I fear the Gatekeeper would have slaughtered Morrigan and the child. If it weren't for you, he wouldn't have remembered himself when he was brought back to the Fade. His remembrance will start others to recalling what they once were. It is no small thing, and long overdue. His friendship with you was a key that could not be overlooked. He would have reacted as he always does-implusively."

"Justice?" Anders said in shock. "You're talking about Justice aren't you?"

"It is what he goes by now. But he had another name once. All of the spirits of the Fade and demons had other names once. The Elvhen know most of them, but even they do not know them all. We were gods to them. We battled among ourselves, and split off into two distinct factions. The Forgotten Ones, and the ones that the Elvhen called the Creators. But that was a lie, we did not create. We did nothing except war among each other."

"So it is true," Leliana said. "You are Fen'Harel."

"That is one of the names I have gone by." Flemeth arched an eyebrow at the stunned room. "I think it is time to explain myself. I dearly love secrets, but sometimes the reveal is just as fun."

* * *

><p>Anders couldn't let go of his grip on Fenris' hand. He could feel the tension in his lover, and see the angry set of his jaw. Fenris hated being lied to, and he hated being manipulated even less so. Although they had surmised Flemeth's true identity from what Rhys had said, to actually heart it from her lips was another thing completely.<p>

Fenris was enraged.

"Wait, love," Anders cautioned in a whisper. "We need to see what she wants first."

"She wants chaos," Fenris muttered harshly. "I say we kill her now. She has done enough damage already."

If Flemeth could hear any of what Anders and Fenris were saying, she didn't show it as she continued on. "I saw what my brothers and sisters were doing in their arrogance, and sought to stop it. They would have destroyed all of mortal kind in their eternal war. So I went to them, promising each side that I would betray the other. I trapped them instead, used their arrogance against them. The Forgotten Ones I sent into the earth, trapped forever in sleep and in their dragon forms. The Creators I sent into the Fade, locking them away much diminished.

"For a time I was content, but then the humans came. Alone, I could not stop what was to happen next, and could only watch as they came and enslaved the Elvhen, destroying all that I had sought to protect. I was already depleted, so much smaller than I once had been."

"Don't act as if you did not rejoice in the chaos!" Fenris ripped his hand free from Anders and shot to his feet. "Do not act as if you are not self-serving."

"I do not claim otherwise," Flemeth said with a shrug. "With the destruction of Arlathan, I lost my most favorite children." She turned fond eyes on Rhys. "The magisters perverted what I had taught, using it to force open a door I had long closed. I used most of what I had left to punish those that had dared to enter into my Father's house. The Forgotten Ones had thought they could get free of the prison I had made for them. If they wanted freedom, then they should have it. But only when their puppets had dug through the earth like the vermin they were, finding them where they slept. I realized too late that putting them in the earth in eternal sleep and not in the Fade, was a mistake."

"And you doomed millions to die over the years!" Fenris slammed his fist down on the table. "Every time an Archdemon rose, people died. Every time the Blight tainted the land, people would grow sick. You say the Creators were arrogant? _You_ brought a plague on the land for no other reason than your pride."

"You are correct," Flemeth admitted. "I am what my Father made me, and my nature dictated that I think myself smarter and better than them all. I was cut off from so much of myself, and I was the one to blame for it. I ran wild and free, and in that freedom, I made mistakes. It wasn't until I sought to merge myself with another that I came to understand my very nature, and why my Father was so disappointed in his First Children. We do not change. Justice knows this now, and he is better for it, Faith knows it if she could only speak."

She turned her eyes on Wynne. "Merging gives us the chance for change, or it corrupts us. Justice learned what it was like to be corrupted, Faith and I, learned otherwise."

"Faith no longer speaks to me," Wynne said as she clutched her chest.

"She wouldn't," Flemeth acknowledged. "She is what keeps you alive, you are Faith now. Just as Anders was becoming Vengeance."

"Who?" Anders asked. "Who did you—"

"So many… We can hold the bodies for a very long time, but eventually, we have to seek out another. The first one I took was a woman named Flemeth. She called to me for revenge, and it had been so long since I'd had my named invoked, that I was compelled to answer. The second… I think your Seeker friend knows. It is why she came, is it not?"

Leliana looked shaken. "Andraste… We had suspected, but we hadn't been…"

"She was a strong mage, and a slave who wanted freedom for herself and for others. I helped her to achieve only a small part of it. But she died before she could finish her work." Flemeth met every person's eyes in the room. "All of you will finish what she started—we what had started. Tevinter is still here. The magisters have not paid for their crimes. They still hold the descendants of my favorite children as slaves. Andraste did not free the slaves, they are still there."

"That's it?" Fenris asked. "You just want the slaves freed. Pardon me for not believing your sincerity."

"You are pardoned." Flemeth laughed and Fenris scowled in response. "You are wise to doubt me. But I have waited for the right moment, for the right circumstances for longer than you can imagine. The Elvhen screamed for my help, for the help of those I had locked away. The sound of it still rings in my ears."

The smile she gave him was with sly knowledge. "For good or ill, you are marked as one of mine now. I will not abandon you again."


	87. Chapter 87

Anders lost his grip on Fenris as the elf surged forward. "I belong to no one. I'm not your fucking pet the way that Rhys is."

Instead of being insulted, Flemeth looked amused. "If you were born thousands of years ago, I would have marked you as mine. You were always to be mine, Fenris."

With a cry of rage, Fenris leapt on top of the table. He felt Anders grasp for him, and heard the shocked cries of the others, but it mattered little when it came to the overpowering urge to rip Flemeth's heart from her chest. His brands burst forth with light, and there were more shocked cries from those that hadn't seen it before. Quicker than most at the table could track, Fenris jumped towards her, his hands stretched into the claws that he wasn't wearing, his lips pulled in a snarl.

He hadn't counted on Rhys.

The breath whooshed out of Fenris as he was snatched from midair, and slammed into the table. Rhys' hands were around his throat, and he leaned over Fenris. "You should have paid more attention to me when I was trying to teach you." He gave Fenris a mocking smile. "I'm still faster than you."

The room had erupted into chaos. Chairs scraped against the floor, and several voices clamored to be heard at once. But Fenris only noticed one voice in the uproar.

"Get your hands off of him! Or, so help me, Maker, I _will_ kill you where you stand," Anders shouted in Arcanum.

"Enough!" There was a thump on the table near Fenris' head, and he could see large boots in his periphery. "Get the fuck off of him, Rhys. Everyone sit the fuck down!" There was a pause. "Someone better damned well tell Rhys to let him go, or else I'll take his fucking head myself."

Aedan then... No one else could shout and curse the way he did, not even Oghren at times. Rhys was doing no more than holding Fenris down, and he frowned at the elvhen. He had done nothing more than prevent Fenris from attacking Flemeth. Fenris could admit that when it came to the two of them, Rhys could snap him like a twig if he wanted to.

So why hadn't he?

"What are you up to?" Fenris accused.

Rhys gave him an innocent look that Fenris didn't believe for an instant. He'd seen the exact same thing on Anders' face enough times to know better. "Me? I'm just protecting my lord." He paused as Zevran delicately whispered in his ear. "Now I'm going to see if I can finish making my point." He released Fenris and drew away from him.

Grinning at Aedan who stood on the table scowling down, he leapt up to join him in one fluid movement. His landing was noticeably gentler than Aedan's had been. He glanced back at Zevran. "Translate for me, please."

He didn't wait for the assassin's assent before he started to speak. "My name is Rhys of the Elvhen. For days I have watched as your army does nothing but collect dust. All of you rage at the magisters, and yet some of you hesitate when you hear talk of war." With this he gave Aedan a significant glance.

"I don't care who any of you are. You will be nothing but half remembered legends when the magisters are through with you. My people were the strongest in what you call Thedas. We taught the humans the ways of lyrium, and how to touch the Fade. We were eternal. But Tevinter crushed us because of our arrogance."

He pointed at Bhelen. "Do you consider your warriors strong?"

"Of course," Bhelen blustered, his face turning red. "Few can match the dwarves."

"Yet Tevinter managed to drive you from your home." He glanced at each face in turn. "A child stolen, an attempt on lives made, is this not enough to understand the danger you are in? Why are we not already making plans to lay siege on the city? What is stopping you?"

He waved a hand at Flemeth. "A god walks among you, telling you that they must be stopped, yet you question it." He thumped his fist on his chest. "Do you even understand how many of us there were? How many were taken? How many were lost? Do you even comprehend that the Warriors of Fen'Harel were the mightiest that the Elvhen had to offer, and yet we still perished?"

He glanced down at Fenris who had slid off the table to stand next to Zevran. "They took lyrium? Then there can be only one reason why. That was how it had started with us. Those that escaped the slaughter of Minrathous told tales of how the streets had run red with blood. Demons roamed openly, and the magisters used the largest quantity of lyrium ever gathered in one place outside of Arlathan. If they took your lyrium, then they seek to make another like him, like the one they had made before. They will open the way to the City of the Creators.

"I leave tomorrow to report on what I have learned here. When I come back, it will be with the elvhen army at my side. If you are still 'talking' about what it is you must do by then, do not come to us later when Tevinter has razed your city, and taken your children to be blood sacrifices."

"What is he talking about," Sten asked.

Fenris closed his eyes. He had been dreading this very thing. He had been so use to people knowing what he was, and the small handful that knew why he had been created, that the sense of shame he had came rushing back.

There was the soft rustle of wings, and when Fenris looked behind him, Flemeth was gone. He growled under his breath. She had obviously accomplished what she wanted. Fenris just hoped that none of them would regret this in the end.

* * *

><p>Anders huddled deeper into his fur lined cloak as he stared up at the night sky. This far north, and on crisp clear nights, one could see so many more stars in the sky then you could anywhere else in Thedas. Anders leaned back against a tower as he dangled his legs over the curtain wall.<p>

Things had gone relatively well after Rhys' little speech. They had begun to make plans for once, and not even Aedan had any objections. Smart fucker that Rhys. That didn't mean that Anders liked him any better.

They had debated for hours, well into the day. There had been so many things to take into consideration, so many people that wanted to add their input that Anders was amazed they had gotten as far as they had in their plans.

Such as they were.

"You do realize we are all going to die a horrible death, right?" he asked Fenris who was just as bundled up as Anders next to him.

"Maybe not," Fenris mused. "But I grant you that too many things are contingent on being able to last long enough for those inside. The armies are being sent to die to do nothing more than buy us time."

The plan had several parts. It was agreed upon immediately, that breaching the walls of Minrathous was nigh on impossible. Doing so while having to contend with the Juggernauts was suicide. The Juggernauts needed to be stopped, or else they would fail and die before the gates. It had been Gaius who had told them that there was one single control rod for the golems, and that it was in the Archon's possession. If they could get into the city, and find the control rod, it would turn the golems against their lifelong masters, and the siege would be won.

But that required them to find the rod.

It had been Carver of all people who had suggested using the Eluvian. Marian had insisted that she be a part of the party that infiltrated the capital, and no one could tell her no when she stated with fierce eyes that she was going to find her son.

But to go through the Eluvian and get back, required Fenris-or at least, one of the Elvhen. By the time Aedan had called it a night and told them they would reconvene in the morning, they still hadn't hammered out the details.

Or more, Aedan had called a halt to proceedings when Zevran had told them that he would come with them to the city. He had contacts there, and if anyone knew how to get into the Archon's tower, or where the control rod was, they would.

Fenris snorted and Anders raised an eyebrow at him.

"It is strange to see others gainsay Aedan," Fenris explained at his look. "I am use to him telling others what to do, that I find it…"

"Strange? Weird? Kind of funny in a morbid way?" Anders asked.

"All of it. He doesn't like to have his control taken from him, but he will lose to Zevran in this as well. Gaius, Cato and Feynriel cannot be seen in the city. They cannot guide us. Zevran can."

"I'm not sure if I should be relived, or worried that we won't be with the armies, but inside the city instead." Anders had never been to war before. But he had heard enough from those that had. Some people excelled at it. People like Aedan, or even Carver and Oghren. Anders had never considered himself particularly heroic, and had never had the drive to actually run out on a battlefield like others did.

How very un-Anderfels of him.

The two sat in silence, looking up at the stars. Anders leaned over and rested his head on Fenris' shoulder. It wasn't the most comfortable position, he was taller than Fenris, but Anders didn't care.

"I want you to promise me something," Fenris said.

Anders didn't even bother to hide the rolling of his eyes. _Here we go again._ He sighed and blew out a breath, a little cloud puffing from his lips. "Is this where you tell me to be strong and move on with my life if you die? Cause you've told me that—what?—six, seven times? We aren't going to talk about this anymore."

"Just because you do not wish to discuss something, does not mean it will go away," Fenris said none too gently.

"Well how about this then," Anders countered. "How about we talk about what _you_ will do if I die, huh? Not too pleasant to think about, is it?"

There was a heartbeat of silence, and Anders felt Fenris stiffen under his cheek. Great, they were at the verge of probable death, and here they were fighting.

But Fenris surprised him.

"I suppose I would kill all those that had taken you from me, and then retire to the countryside. Where I'll raise cats and name each one of them Anders in your memory."

Anders could almost feel the strange sensation of his brain skittering to a halt. "Did you… Did you just make a joke? An off colored one about my death?"

"I wasn't joking," Fenris said in an offended tone. "I would truly name them all Anders. Do you doubt the depths of my devotion?"

There it was again. Pop! His brain really needed to stop doing that.

But this Fenris did not last long. "I _am_ sorry," he said, his voice somber. "I had not realized how uncomfortable I was making you. I do not wish to lose you again, especially to death that I can do nothing against."

"I know, Love. But we have more than enough time to be frightened for our very lives when we get there. I just don't want to dwell on it now." He felt Fenris' head turn, and then warm lips were pressed to the top of his head.

The companionable silence fell on them once more. Anders wanted to burn this into his memory, this peace away from the bustling fortress on this cold night. All those years ago, pining away for Fenris while they had been in Kirkwall, Anders had never dare imagine a night like this, or any of the nights they'd had together. Anders never wanted to take this for granted. Fenris had never given up on him. Even when the elf had professed to hate him, he still hadn't given up. He had never turned Anders into the Templars. He had never tried to kill him. Well, except for that time in the Hanged Man, but to be fair, he had thought that Anders had gotten Marian pregnant and ruined her life.

He owed so much to Fenris, but he didn't feel as if he _owed_ him. It was this unspoken, mutual understanding the two of them had, this desire to protect each other when the world would never look out for them.

Of course, that wasn't true anymore.

They had the Wardens, and Anders knew that if anything happened to him, that the Grey Wardens would make sure that Fenris did not follow him.

Great, now he was being morose.

_Thanks, Love_, he thought snidely.

Anders could always count on Fenris to bring the horrors of grim reality crashing down on him.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Both Fenris and Anders glanced to their right to see Zevran making his way towards them on the curtain wall. The assassin didn't wait for them to respond, or even invite him before he sat himself down next to Fenris.

"Please, Zev," Anders quipped. "Make yourself at home."

"I will. Thank you so much, my mage friend." Zevran flashed Anders a smile.

Ugh, Anders had been trying for years to get under Zevran's skin the way he could with everyone else, and so far, had made zero progress. What in the Void was he supposed to do with a guy like that?

Oh… That's right, mention that you want to sleep with his lover. That seemed to have set him off quite nicely. Although, Anders hadn't wanted to find that out quite in the way he had. His pride still stung from the cruel rejection, and he lifted his head from Fenris' shoulder to glare at the other elf.

"Don't you have someone to go yell at?" he asked.

Fenris slowly turned his head to face Zevran. Anders knew he was interested in the answer. He had told Anders that under no uncertain terms was he to talk to Zevran or Aedan about it again. Zevran had made his choice, and they needed to let it lie.

But that didn't mean he wasn't angry at the assassin for treating Anders so badly.

"Ah! About that…" Did Zevran just fidget? Oh, Maker, he really did. "I have come to apologize. I was not myself and treated you unfairly. Aedan has made sure that I am… occupied so that my mind does not wander into dangerous territory for the time being. It has helped."

Fenris opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but closed it and shook his head. "You were patient with me when I was troubled after my Joining," Fenris said softly. "If Anders is satisfied, then let's _never_ speak of this again."

"Never?" Zevran arched an eyebrow at Fenris. "That would be a shame, would it not? Aedan would like to have a… private meeting with the two of you. I will be there as well of course. After all life is short, is it not? And if there was ever a time for such… meetings to take place, then it is before a war. Maybe you would not wish to speak of it after, and we would understand, but I hope that I have not completely ruined any chance for—"

"Stop!" Fenris huddled deeper into the hood of his cloak, so that his face was partially obscured. "I… That is… We…" There was an audible swallow. "I want to… If Anders still wants to…"

Anders leaned around Fenris. That was his Love, eloquent in all things, except in what he really wanted. "What he means to say is when?"

That grin of Zevran's was back, but this time there was a bit of heat leeching into his eyes. "The night is still young, yes? Shall I tell Aedan that you will be by shortly?"

Another swallow. "Yes. Tell him that we will be there," Fenris glanced at Anders, and the mage nodded, "soon."


	88. Chapter 88

A/N: Sorry this is a day late. Don't worry, the next chapter will continue on the games between the boys. ^_^v

* * *

><p>There was no one in Aedan's study when Anders and Fenris entered quietly and shut the door behind them. Anders even took the extra precaution and flipped the lock for the door. The two men glanced at each other, and then to the door on the other side of the room, where Aedan and Zevran's bedchamber was located.<p>

Fenris' heart thudded in his chest, a rapid beat that had started the moment they had told Zevran they would meet with them shortly. His fingers curled tightly in his palms and he took an unsteady step forward.

Once, he had asked Anders why he couldn't make his own choices where his body was concerned. It had been before the first time that Anders had taken him, and it had definitely not been the last. He would always bear a special kind of hate for the magisters. He would never completely trust mages. But this was something that he could do, a decision that was supported by his lover, the last vestige of Danarius' hold on him.

Fenris didn't fool himself into thinking that this one night would cure him of all of his anxieties from the sexual depravity that had been inflicted on him under Danarius' care. Life didn't work like that. But for Fenris, it was a step towards making a decision, and following through with it because he wanted it. Not because someone had cajoled or forced him into doing it, but because it was Fenris' choice.

Knowing all of that, made him no less nervous.

Fenris scowled and took several more steps towards the door. He knew if he turned around and left right now, that no one would hold it against him. That knowledge bolstered him, the understanding that there would be no judgment.

Before he knew it, Fenris was across the room and his hand on the latch. He looked over his shoulder to see Anders giving him a warm smile.

"Into the dragon's den, Love?"

Their eyes met and Fenris gave him a small nod. He pushed down on the latch, and the door clicked open.

Fenris' breath hitched, lodging in his throat, and he had to swallow several times to force it down. Aedan's bed was massive, taking up the center of the room. Which made sense, Fenris thought in a sort of daze, since Aedan was such a big man and he didn't sleep alone.

What Aedan and Zevran were doing in the bed, thought, definitely wasn't sleeping.

Aedan was propped up against the headboard, completely nude. His legs were spread wide, and Zevran's blonde head bobbed between his splayed thighs. Scars in varying degrees of depth and age crisscrossed along Aedan's body, marking the battles he had been in over the years.

"Oh, shit," Anders sputtered.

If Fenris' brain could have reconnected with his mouth, he would have agreed with the sentiment. Instead, he watched mesmerized as Zevran arched his back, lifting his admittedly well-rounded ass in the air. Fenris could see the assassin's erection dangling between his legs, and suddenly the air lodged back in his throat again.

It was a feeling he was going to become acquainted with several times over the course of the night.

Aedan looked up at Fenris and Anders though eyes that were heavy lidded. His lips parted on a moan, his cheeks flushed with pleasure. He gave the two of them a slow, seductive smile, and crooked a finger at them, beckoning them closer.

_I could still leave_, Fenris thought. But even as the words went through his mind, he knew that he wouldn't. He just couldn't seem to get his feet to move, rooted to the spot as if he was pinned there by Aedan's penetrating eyes. His body jerked, startled when Anders slid his arms around his waist, and leaned down to rest his chin on Fenris' shoulder.

"We could watch, Love…" Anders began.

"No." Fenris' words were barely audible. "I want this." And he did. The second the words left his lips he was striding towards the bed. His hands found the hem of his tunic, and he pulled it off to drop it on the floor, neglected.

He put one knee on the mattress when Zevran lifted his head. Fenris paused, and there went that damn lump in his throat again.

"Andraste's tits!" Anders exclaimed from behind Fenris.

The… device that Zevran had given Fenris, and he in turn had used on Anders, had been horribly accurate. It wasn't that Aedan was monstrously huge, but he was a big man, and his cock was in proportion with the rest of him.

Zevran ran his tongue over his lips, his hand stroking up Aedan's cock. Fenris blew out a slow breath and climbed the rest of the way into the bed. Aedan curled his fingers around Fenris' forearm, and pulled him gently closer. He lifted Fenris' arm, holding it between them. Their eyes locked, and Aedan turned the elf's wrist over, exposing the bracelet of Anders' braided hair. Aedan's tongue snaked out and traced it, running his tongue over the tightly woven, blonde strands.

Fenris shivered. It was as if Aedan was touching both him and Anders, and everything they meant to each other. Aedan placed a kiss on Fenris' wrist, right below the bracelet. He flashed a grin, and his teeth nipped at the elf's skin.

It hadn't escaped Fenris' notice that Aedan hadn't spoken once since they had entered the room. The bed dipped behind him, and he felt Anders' slender fingers slide down his back. Aedan flicked his eyes to somewhere behind Fenris, and then glanced back. He winked at the elf, and yanked him abruptly forward.

Fenris landed sprawled out on Aedan's chest. He could feel the soft, dark hair that was sprinkled generously over Aedan's chest and abdomen rubbing against his skin. Aedan cupped the back of Fenris' head and leaned down. Their breath mingled, their lips a hair's breadth apart.

"Do you have any idea of how long I've want you?" Aedan asked, his voice a raspy growl.

Fenris' eyes flickered down to Aedan's lips, and then back up again. "Hm… Zevran is always telling Anders and me, that we have some unresolved tension between us."

Aedan chuckled, the sound low, and it made Fenris' breath stutter. "I found out a long time ago, that Zev usually knows what he's talking about." Then he crushed their lips together.

Fenris' eyes slid closed. He had only the memory of kissing three people in his life-Danarius, Carver, and Anders. He had the wild thought that this must be what it was like for someone to kiss him. Aedan's kiss was intense, something that consumed, and forced his partners to either comply, or break free completely. Fenris had never been kissed like this before, and at first, it frightened him in a way that he couldn't quite explain.

But Fenris wasn't one to be a passive participant—not anymore.

He threw a leg over Aedan, straddling him as he deepened the kiss. The two men warred with each other, each fighting for dominance with the kiss, using tongues and teeth. At one point, Fenris nipped hard enough to draw blood, and Aedan only gave another one of those low, seductive chuckles.

Fenris' cock strained in his breeches, and pushed against the tight lacing. For every inch that he lost to Aedan, he made up a moment later, until their mouths were devouring each other in harsh, sloppy kisses. Fenris' fingers speared in Aedan's thick, black hair. He gripped the strands tightly, forcing Aedan's head at an angle.

The world tilted and Fenris found himself slammed on his back, Aedan pinning him to the mattress. The kiss finally broke, the two men gasping for air, when Fenris yanked Aedan's head back using his hair. They stared at each other, their breath seesawing in and out between kiss swollen lips.

"It's my name day, isn't it?" Zevran said from somewhere to Fenris' left.

"Yours and mine both," Anders muttered.

Aedan laughed, and the tip of his tongue touched the cut on his lip. He raised an eyebrow at Fenris. "Are we at an impasse?"

Fenris hooked a leg over Aedan's waist, his bare foot digging into the small of his back. "You might say that."

Running a hand up over Fenris' hip, Aedan tangled his fingers in the laces of his breeches. With a few quick jerks, he had the flap open.

At some point, Anders had removed his clothes. He laid down on Fenris' right, placing his palm on his lover's cheek. Turning Fenris to face him, their lips met in a soft kiss. It was a strange juxtaposition, the difference between Anders' gentle kiss, and Aedan's devouring one. It settled some of Fenris' nerves, as Anders' familiar taste filled his senses.

The bed creaked when Aedan moved off of Fenris. Slender fingers—Zevran's, he was sure of it—hooked in the waistband of his breeches and slowly pulled them down his legs, taking his smalls with them. Once he was free of them, he rolled over on top of Anders. The mage gasped as their cocks slid along each other, arching his back as he sought further friction.

"So pretty, yes?" Zevran said, a teasing note in his voice.

"Yes," came Aedan's gruff reply.

Hands were on Fenris' back again, but this time he was sure they were Aedan's. They were large and callused from his daily sword work. A kiss was placed on the nape of his neck, and Fenris shuddered. He could feel Aedan's warmth behind him, and his hands came to slide around to Fenris' front, lodging in between him and Anders.

Anders sucked the breath from Fenris' lips when Aedan's hands wrapped around their cocks, pressing them together. Fenris broke the kiss, and his head dropped down, touching his forehead to Anders. Their eyes met and held, both full of heated need as their bodies writhed, shuttling their cocks in and out of Aedan's tight grip.

Their cries of pleasure radiated through the room as they fucked Aedan's fists. Fenris lowered his head and mouthed the column of Anders' throat, his tongue scraping over the ever present stubble. Pleasure whipped through him, and Fenris wasn't sure how much longer he would last.

Anders' hands clawed at Fenris' back, raking deep lines into his skin, his nails catching on the brands. Fenris had the presence of mind to whisper silkily in Anders' ear, his breath panting into his skin.

"Is this what you wanted? They're watching you. They can hear what a little slut you are, how much that ass of yours wants to be filled. Isn't that what you want, Anders? To have them watch you get fucked like a bitch in heat?"

"Oh… Oh, Maker!" Anders cried. "Please… Please!"

He caught Anders' earlobe between his teeth and tugged. "Tell them what you want, Anders. Let them hear you beg."

Anders shivered violently. "Maker… Fuck me… Just fuck me!"

Fenris soothed away the sting with his tongue. "No…" he growled.

The high pitch keening sound was something that Fenris had never heard Anders make before. If nothing else, hearing it made all of this worthwhile.

"So cruel," Zevran whispered. He had laid himself down against Anders' left. "Is Fenris always this way? Poor mage…"

Fenris kept himself still, his eyes on Zevran and Anders. This was it, wasn't it? He waited for the inevitable cloud of jealousy to descend as Zevran turned Anders' face and took his lips in a slow kiss. Tension leaked out of Fenris as he realized that it wasn't coming. Oh, it was there-just the smallest twinge, barely felt. But it wasn't the all-encompassing anger that Fenris had been expecting.

His lips quirked in a small smile and he mouthed at Anders' throat. "Don't feel sorry for him," Fenris murmured. "Anders knows that he only gets what he deserves."

Zevran gave the mage a sly glance. "Does he now?"

This was good. Focusing on Anders didn't give Fenris' brain enough time to latch onto things that had no place here. Like the way Aedan's heavy body felt on back, and Anders below him. On the surface, Fenris loved the warmth that surrounded him, but far below it there was an ugly voice, reminding him of the last time he was between another's legs as an erect cock nudged at him from behind.

Panic clawed at him, sinking its tendrils in deep. He froze on top of Anders, his eyes wide. Fingers touched his cheek and Fenris jerked, startled. The bed shifted and Aedan moved away, taking the some of the heat with him. Zevran scooted closer, half on top of Anders so that he could look at Fenris in the eyes.

"Do you know why I love my Aedan?" Zevran whispered.

Fenris blinked rapidly at the sudden question. "I…"

"Because he doesn't see me as an elf. He doesn't fuck me because I'm exotic. Don't get me wrong, I am very handsome and he knows it, but my Aedan loves me for me. He loves me for my actions. He loves me for the things I say." His deft fingers trailed down Fenris' jaw to the lyrium markings on his chin. "He does not say such things easily, but he wants you because he has been watching you for a long time, not because he is your commander and he feels it is his due." The assassin practically purred. "Do you have any idea of how hard he fucks me after the two of you argue? I must thank you for that."

Zevran's hand caressed over Anders' chest, his nails scratching slightly. The mage sucked in a quick breath at the small sting. "Your mage is such a naughty boy. Maybe we should make him watch for a little while and see how loud we can get him to beg, yes?"

Fenris blew out a slow breath between parted lips. Zevran was right. Aedan was not Danarius, and Fenris was not preforming against his will. He and Anders had danced around this very thing for years, using the idea of it as fodder for fantasies. It wasn't as if Fenris hadn't wanted it for a long time.

He and _Aedan_ had danced around it for years.

Fenris knew that there could have been nobody else that he and Anders could have asked to do this. Fenris trusted Aedan in a way that he had never really trusted before—except with Anders. And where Aedan went, Zevran followed. The jealousy wasn't there, because Aedan and Zevran had no interest in taking Anders from him, something that he couldn't ever be absolutely sure with anyone else.

He grinned at Zevran, flashing him one of those rare smiles. "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

><p>What had he gotten himself into?<p>

Fenris pulled against the silken straps that tied his wrists to the headboard, arms over his head. He wasn't going to ask why Aedan and Zevran had them—that was abundantly clear. Anders was on his right, while Zevran lay against his left.

Zevran chuckled at the look of consternation on Fenris' face. "I said we should make him watch, I did not specify what."

On his knees between Fenris' outstretched legs, Aedan poured a generous amount of oil on his fingers. He grinned down at the three of them. "I think you both are wrong. It's defiantly _my_ name day."

Zevran rolled his eyes. "He will be insufferable for months because of this."

"Years, I think." Anders pressed his lips to Fenris' shoulder. He trailed more kissed up Fenris' jaw, and the elf turned capturing his lips.

Fenris' arms jerked against the bonds when he felt Zevran's hands caress down his chest. The assassin's fingers scratched over first one nipple and then the other, and Fenris gasped into Ander's mouth. He pulled back far enough to mutter to Anders. "Do it…"

"Are you sure, Love?" Anders' rubbed his thumb over Fenris' full, bottom lip.

"Do it," Fenris insisted.

Their gaze held as Anders touched one of the lyrium swirls on Fenris' chest. A jolt of magic ignited his brands, and Fenris moaned as his nerve endings came to pleasurable life.

"Maker," Aedan breathed.

Fenris writhed, his cock leaving wet patches on his abdomen as he rode out the sensation.

"I," Zevran said in awe, "am horribly jealous, right now."

Fenris turned his head to face the other elf. "I think that's the first time I've heard that, and actually believed it."

Zevran winked and leaned over to take his lips in a deep, slow kiss.

The three of them continued on like that for some time. Anders would caress Fenris' body, his fingers following the path of his brands, heating the elf's skin with his touch. Little sprinkles of magic in varying shades of intensity were sent into the lyrium, pulling at the markings, and playing Fenris' body like a well-tuned harp.

The kiss between Fenris and Zevran turned into something wild. They bit at each other's lips, their teeth occasionally clacking together, their tongues darting into open, wet mouths.

When the first tentative touch to Fenris' entrance came, he let out a low groan, spreading his legs wider. He was beyond any sort of hesitation or shame at this point. The fears were still there, but they meant nothing in the face of what these three men were making him feel—what he was _allowing_ himself to feel.

A slick finger entered him, and Fenris angled his hips upwards, his body accepting the digit readily.

"My Aedan," Zevran said in between kisses, "is very, _very_ good at this."

When the first probing touch against the spot of pleasure inside Fenris came, he knew that Zevran wasn't lying. He gasped, unable to pull enough air into his lungs. Anders' hand had found its way to Fenris' sac, and he was gently rolling the flesh in his fingers.

Aedan's finger was a constant rub inside Fenris, and the elf's cock twitched with each touch. He traced patterns with the pad of his index finger, gently pushing against the walnut shaped bump just inside. Fenris had had Anders do this to him before, but this was vastly different. He watched Aedan out of the corners of his eyes, his mouth almost slack against Zevran's lips. Aedan gave him a knowing smile, his eyes heated.

On and on it went, the insistent finger inside him, pushing at nerves in a way that Fenris hadn't felt before. He was on the constant verge of orgasm, but Aedan knew just how much pressure to use, just how much he needed to back off before building Fenris up again. It was like being jacked off from the inside, and if it wasn't for Anders carefully tugging his balls away from their inexorable climb towards his shaft, Fenris was sure he would have come by now.

Maker, he wanted to come.

He struggled against the bindings, his body dancing to the rhythm of Aedan's finger. Just one single finger and he was unraveling Fenris from the inside out.

And when Zevran and Anders crawled down the sides of Fenris' body, kissing along his ribs, and hips, Fenris knew that he was done for.

Two blonde heads met in the middle, their lips coming together in a sloppy kiss, Fenris' cock between them. When one tongue slid away from the head of his erection, another immediately took its place.

Fenris' heart hammered in his chest, and he had become incapable of even the smallest moan. His mouth went slack, and his eyes slid closed, too overcome to do anything but go where these three men wanted to lead him.

The lewd sound of Anders and Zevran licking wetly at each other and the cock between them filled the air. Fenris' head went back, digging into the pillow as a low keening sound, that at any other time he would have been mortified about, escaped his lips.

"Fucking beautiful," Aedan rasped. He pulled his finger free and replaced it with the middle one. He buried it up to the third knuckle, and rubbed over Fenris' prostate with shallow strokes. With each touch, the elf's cock dribbled out precum, Anders and Zevran tongues lapping at it, tangling with each other in their haste to get to each drop first.

Fenris found his voice, and nonsensical words tumbled from his lips. "Please… Please, please, pleasepleaseplease." He begged in Arcanum, even though Aedan couldn't understand him. He even burst out in the language of the Anderfels once or twice, filthy words that he had picked up from Anders over the years.

The silk that held him creaked dangerously as his body went taut, and his fingers wrapped around it to grip tight.

"Tell me how much you like it, Fenris," Aedan demanded. His tone was commanding, and it was like something went off inside of Fenris, his body and mind no longer under his own control. He should have been frightened by it, feeling the panic that he'd had earlier, but instead he reveled it.

"I want to hear you scream," Aedan said, his voice husky.

And that was all it took.

Fenris' mouth opened wide on a strangled scream and he came. His vision whitened around the edges as his body convulsed in one of the most powerful orgasms he'd ever had. Aedan, the wonderful bastard that he was, chuckled wickedly, that invading digit coaxing more and more cum from Fenris' body.

When Aedan finally pulled free, Fenris was still shaking, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He could feel as Anders and Zevran licked his cock clean, and he opened his eyes just enough to see them turn back to each other, their tongues tangling as they exchanged Fenris' taste.

His eyes met Aedan's and the First Warden grinned. "And that's just the foreplay."

_Foreplay?_

Fenris didn't think he would survive the whole show.


	89. Chapter 89

Thank you to everyone who reads and enjoys!

* * *

><p>If Anders had been paying attention to the other men in the room, and not on the way Fenris tasted on his tongue, or how Zevran's hands smoothed over his hip, he would have seen the look exchanged between the three of them. As it was, he had no warning when Fenris abruptly yanked his head back sharply by his hair when the elf's hands were freed.<p>

There were so many horrible things about being a Grey Warden-you took your chances each time you stepped into the Deep Roads. Very few Wardens ended their lives on anything other than the end of a darkspawn's blade, their bodies torn apart. Wardens hungered—they hungered for food, they hungered for battle, and they hungered for sex. Some Wardens were more affected than others, but the end result was the same.

The perks?

They could fuck until their bodies literally wore out. Something that Anders and Fenris had taken advantage of on more than one occasion.

Fenris narrowed his eyes at Anders, and the mage felt a delicious thrill of apprehension race through him. He loved it when Fenris looked at him like that, full of dark promise.

"You ready?" Fenris rasped, his voice raw from screaming.

Anders slowly licked lips gone dry, catching some of Fenris' flavor that he and Zevran had missed. "And if I say no?"

"You don't have a choice," Fenris told him. It wasn't true, but the two of them were already in the game, playing their parts.

"You're fucking disgusting," Anders hissed, but he couldn't quite keep the growing heat out of his eyes.

Tilting his head to the side, Fenris gave him a considering look. "Language…" His free hand shot out, cracking across Anders' cheek. The force of the blow was enough to turn his head, and Fenris gripped his hair tighter to keep him in place, the strands pulling sharply on his scalp.

"Now this," Zevran purred, "is a most interesting development, yes?"

"Yes…" Aedan agreed.

Anders' face was throbbing, but Fenris hadn't hit him hard enough to really do anything more than that. It was just a taste, a small tease of what was to come if Anders wanted it. He wasn't going to lie, Anders was a little bit afraid. It was one thing to pretend and talk about doing certain things with other people, it was another thing entirely to actually go through with it. Did he really want every time Zevran and Aedan looked at him, that they would remember just how perfectly Fenris could turn Anders inside out?

Anders had never really been one for hiding his needs and desires—he'd done enough of that when he'd been in the Circle, and when he and Justice had been one. Life was too Maker damned short for that. So when he got down to it, when he dug deep in the very things that made him tick, Anders knew that it wasn't necessarily fear, but nerves.

And desire—there was plenty of that.

Anders stilled his racing thoughts, and reached down into himself one more time, pulling the part of his self that just didn't give a damn to the surface. Since when had Anders ever balked at having an audience?

Fucking never.

With his head twisted to the side, Anders had to roll his eyes towards Fenris to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, was that supposed to hurt me?" he taunted.

Fenris' eyes flashed with heated interest, and then the world shifted. Fenris was deceptively slender and surprisingly strong, it never ceased to catch Anders off guard. His back smacked into Aedan's bare chest as Fenris pushed him into Cousland's waiting arms. Aedan's forearms wrapped around Anders' waist and chest, pinning the mage against him. Anders could feel Aedan's rapid heartbeat against his back, and he smiled softly to himself. Anders arched his spine, rubbing his backside against Aedan's erection until it settled in the crack of his ass.

He heard Aedan gasp, and he knew only a second of triumph before it turned into a dark chuckle that reverberated through him.

"Is he always like this?" Aedan asked.

Fenris pushed himself upright and sat with his knees bent under him. "Anders has a mouth on him. He likes to be reminded that there are better uses for it than to annoy me."

"Hey!" Anders exclaimed in mock outrage. He scowled when Zevran and Aedan laughed. "Come on now. It's not 'pick on the mage' time."

"That's where you are wrong, my friend," Zevran said. He crawled across the massive bed, his passing not even so much as making the well-stuffed mattress jump. He came to a halt in front of Fenris, and tossed Anders a meaningful look over his shoulder. "I think 'pick on the mage' is about to become the theme of this already delightful evening."

* * *

><p>Anders' hands curled into claws, fisting the sheets beneath him. His ass and back were on fire from a hundred tiny scratches, courtesy of Zevran and Fenris. Aedan had contented himself with watching the two elves play with Anders like a well-tuned harp, plucking his strings. Maker, Zevran knew exactly how the human body worked. Anders hadn't even been aware of the sensitive spots the elf had touched on his body, how the scrape of teeth on the backs of his knees would feel, or how nails dragging down his sides from his armpits would make him moan and shudder in pleasure.<p>

Or how to put just the right amount of pressure on Anders' throat in such a way as to prolong that floating euphoria that he loved.

Zevran was teaching Fenris new and inventive ways to torture the mage, to awaken his flesh to new sensations. Where Fenris had always been about overwhelming need and clawing desire, Zevran brought a certain sophistication to the games they played that Anders had never felt before. It wasn't better or worse, just different, and Anders reveled in it.

He was on his hands and knees facing the headboard, Zevran in front of him. Anders' body shook with the need to orgasm, his cock weeping all over the sheets. His abdomen was smeared with semen, some congealing, and some already dried. Around his fifth climax, Anders had lost count. His cock and balls had been bound up tightly, and those wonderful bastards had brought him close to yet another climax when Zevran had pinched the base of his cock, forcing it back. Anders had howled then, and Aedan had let loose with a dark chuckle.

The three of them were enjoying his humiliation and pain a bit too much.

Not that Anders was complaining, mind you.

"Don't bite down, Anders," Fenris said flatly from behind him.

Anders sucked in a shaky breath as Zevran moved closer to him on his knees. The mage's eyes tracked over Zevran's body, and the tattoos that shifted with each movement he made. There was one around his navel, swirling lines that surrounded the indentation and spread outwards. Anders had seen Zevran shirtless before, and he had never seen that one. The twin griffons of the Grey Wardens were still on his hip, and Anders grinned to himself as he remembered running his tongue over every single black outline.

Zevran's slender fingers threaded through Anders' short hair and pulled his head back. Andraste's tits, Anders couldn't wait until his hair got longer again.

"Don't bite down," Fenris reminded Anders again.

The mage eyed Zevran's erection as it approached him. He ran his tongue over his lips, wetting them in preparation. He knew what the two of them were going to do to him, and he felt his ass flex in anticipation.

Anders darted his tongue out, catching the head of the assassin's cock. Zevran gave him a pleased groan when Anders opened his lips and the elf's cock slipped pass them. He flattened his tongue along the underside, pressing it hard against the sensitive glans. Zevran thrust his hips, his cock shuttling in and out in shallow strokes. Anders' jaw ached-he had already gone down on both Fenris and Zevran once already. But he had paid attention, and knew by the sounds that the blonde elf made exactly what he liked. Where Fenris liked to thrust in deep, forcing Anders to choke on his cock, Zevran liked the tease, allowing Anders to do what he wanted.

Hands spread along Anders sore backside, massaging the muscles into relaxed complacency. Anders tried to concentrate on what he was doing, his head bobbing slowly back and forth, taking in more and more of Zevran's erection each time.

When the first blow came, Anders was ready for it—barely.

His ass felt raw, and it was sensitive from the repeated spankings he had already received. Anders grunted when a second slap hit his other cheek. It wasn't nearly as hard as Fenris was capable of, but it might as well have been. Anders' arms shook as the pain coursed through him once more, sending endorphins through his system. He'd gone through this so many times during the night that his brain had ceased to function properly. He felt drunk, riding on nothing but pure need.

Crashing from this night wasn't going to be pleasant.

Fenris started a rhythm that built up in increments, each blow coming in quicker behind the last, until Anders' hips were swaying, dancing under his lover's hands. Even if he could, he had no voice left with which to scream. Instead, he let Fenris know in other ways just how good the elf's touch made him feel. His ass rose and fell, begging silently for more. His eyes slid shut, unable to keep them open anymore. Zevran pulled at his hair, and the slight sting on his scalp was lost among the overwhelming pleasure/pain that Fenris was giving him.

Zevran was muttering Anders knew not what in Antivan, and he cried out when Anders swallowed him down to the hilt, his throat rippling along the shaft. The bed shifted, and Anders opened his mouth when he felt a touch on his shoulder. He glanced up to see Aedan kneeling next to Zevran, a wicked grin on his face.

"My turn," Aedan said. He turned and pulled Zevran to him, their lips meeting in a heated kiss, tongues darting into mouths.

Anders didn't need to be told twice, but he would be a liar if he said he wasn't a little apprehensive. Never mind that there were a few fundamental differences between sleeping with an elf, and a human, something that Anders hadn't done in so long, he couldn't remember. There was a thick, dark trail of hair leading up from Aedan's groin to his chest. Anders felt his cock twitch in appreciation. He used to love that about a man, the hair that Anders could run his fingers through. That was until Fenris.

Anders tilted his head to the side and ran his tongue up Aedan's considerable erection. It hadn't escaped Anders notice that Aedan' hadn't orgasmed once, and he shivered. He knew what the First Warden was waiting for.

Aedan's cock was slick with precum, and Anders spent time cleaning it, memorizing Aedan's flavor, and what caused his cock to jump.

The hands on his backside left and returned, a slick finger probing his entrance. When the first digit entered him, Anders opened his mouth wide, engulfing Aedan's cock. He moaned when the second finger thrust inside him, and gave a muffled cry with the third. He let go of Aedan's cock with a lewd pop, and turned his head to capture Zevran's once more between his lips. His head worked back and forth in quick strokes, before moving back to Aedan. He rocked back on the fingers inside him, fucking himself on them.

Anders froze when Fenris gripped him hard by the hip, steadying him with one hand. His head would have dropped down between his shoulders as Fenris entered him, but Zevran yanked his head back. Two pairs of heated eyes watched his face when Fenris gave his first hard thrust, jerking him forward.

Maker… They were watching him. They had been watching him all evening, and seeing just how much Anders loved the degradation, the pain. How much he would whimper and raise his ass for every blow. How much he would moan and chase after cock with his tongue. His stomach muscles contracted sharply, and if his cock hadn't been bound he would have come right there, with their eyes on him.

Aedan smiled at him, and then his eyes flicked up, looking behind the mage. Anders didn't fool himself. Aedan had been waiting for one thing and one thing only this whole time. And if his intense, hot eyes were any indication, he was going to get it.

With one last deep kiss, Aedan moved away from Zevran, crawling around Anders. The mage panted, his hips rolling into the cock behind him, working himself on it.

Zevran stroked his free hand down Anders' stubble covered jaw. "We should have done this sooner, yes?" He glanced up and then back down to Anders. "So much sooner…"

* * *

><p>Fenris turned his head and crushed his lips to Aedan's as he thrust into the mage. Aedan caressed down Fenris' spine as their tongues tangled, the tips of his fingers dipping into the crack of the elf's ass. Fenris gasped into his mouth, his thrusts stuttering.<p>

"You going to let me fuck you, Fenris?" Aedan whispered, his voice more of a growl. "I've been waiting for you…"

Fenris knew that Aedan meant more than just this night. If he was being honest with himself, he had known it for years. He nipped at Aedan's bottom lip, pulling on the plump flesh. "Yes…" There was no hesitation in his answer, no prevaricating. If he had come here for anything, then this was it.

The kiss broke and their eyes locked—Aedan's assessing. "This won't change anything between us," Aedan said.

"You're lying," Fenris accused softly. He stopped moving inside Anders. "It will change everything."

Aedan's lips curled in a small smile. "I guess it will, but not in a bad way."

"No," Fenris agreed. He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Aedan's lips. "But you are still you, and I am still me."

"I love you, you know," Aedan stated baldly. "I have for a while."

Fenris chuckled. "Not in the way you love Zevran."

Trailing his fingers back up Fenris' spine, he traced a line of lyrium. "Maybe not, but more than I love someone like Nate."

"Nate's like a brother to you." Fenris glanced over at Zevran and Anders. They were both watching them, Anders' head twisted to the side to look over his shoulder. "You never wanted to fuck him."

"Yes, he did," Zevran laughed.

"One time!" Aedan shouted. "One time I mentioned it to you, and you haven't let it go. That was years ago!"

"Our Nate is playing a game of cat and mouse with a certain Templar gone Warden." Zevran winked. "It has been most entertaining to watch."

Anders bumped back against Fenris to remind him that talking was the last thing they should be doing. Fenris turned to the mage and spread his hands up Anders' back, his nails scratching more patterns into his skin. He draped himself against Anders, and spread his legs wide, forcing Anders' thighs open in the process.

"Sorry," Fenris murmured. He rolled lazily into the mage.

"It's okay, Love," Anders moaned.

Love…

He had always known that Aedan cared about him, but he hadn't thought it was anything more than what he felt for any of the Wardens he was close to. Sure, he knew that Aedan had wanted him in his bed, in a way he had always known that, no matter how much he had tried to pretend otherwise, but to hear him say it… Aedan would take what he could get from Fenris and ask for nothing more that he was willing to give. If this was the only night they had, then the First Warden would be content with that. Fenris knew this, if he knew nothing else. There was a comfort in that knowledge, that were would be no pressure or recriminations after the fact. They all might be dead in a month, crushed against the great walls of Minrathous like every single army that had come before them. But right now… right now was for them, grasping for a chance at happiness wherever they could.

Fenris mouthed at the back of Anders' neck when he felt hands on his backside. He blew out a breath and forced himself to remain still when a slick finger circled his hole, occasionally popping inside before slipping back out again. Fenris smiled against Anders' skin. Aedan was being gentle. He didn't need to be, but Fenris wasn't going to tell him that. Despite his sometimes crude words, his temper, and occasionally alarming bloodlust, Aedan was a very caring man. He took care of everyone he felt he was responsible for. He was everyone's father, brother, uncle.

Fenris glanced behind him at Aedan. That… He had never truly thought about what it must be like for Aedan, the weight on his shoulders. He always seemed to carry it so well, but Fenris had to wonder how true that really was.

When the first finger pushed inside him all the way to the third knuckle, Fenris moaned. Zevran was watching his face with avid eyes, occasionally flicking upwards to glance at Aedan. It was like the assassin was trying to memorize every detail-every shudder, every groan of pleasure. Zevran bent at the waist and captured Anders lips in a kiss, distracting him while he waited.

Aedan took his time, winding Fenris up with each caress of the finger inside him. When the second finger entered him the elf bite down on Anders' neck, sinking his teeth into the straining flesh. It had been hours since Aedan had touched him like this, but his body remembered, opening up to him easily. The third finger, and then Aedan twisted his wrist, rubbing against that spot inside him. Fenris' head jerked up and he groaned in approval.

"Stop toying with me," Fenris growled. "Fuck me."

Aedan came up behind Fenris, his cock slotting in the crack of the elf's ass. "Say it again…"

The elf gave him a baleful glare out of the corner of his eye. "No…"

Sliding his hand between Fenris' legs, Aedan gripped his balls gently, rolling them between his fingers. "Say it…"

Fenris hissed out a breath between clenched teeth. To make matters worse, Anders squeezed his ass, tightening around the cock inside him.

"You're going to pay for that," Fenris whispered in the mage's ear.

"Promises, promises, Love," Anders moaned back.

The head of Aedan's cock probed at his entrance, pushing insistently, while Anders' squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed.

"Fuck me!" Fenris shouted, his mouth slack and panting.

Aedan gave Fenris' shoulder a quick kiss and thrust inside in one movement.

Fenris let out a strangled scream. He hadn't been expecting that, and Aedan was so much bigger than a mere three fingers. His ass burned, and he lay gasping against Anders' back while Aedan rubbed circles on his spine.

"Asshole," Fenris hissed.

There was another one of those damned dark chuckles. "Never claimed to be otherwise," Aedan murmured. He pulled back agonizingly slow, before slamming back into Fenris again. All pretenses to gentleness were gone, and in its place was the intensity that Fenris had felt in Aedan's lips when he had first kissed him. Aedan fucked like he did everything else in his life. It was raw and primal, grunts issuing from his lips at each thrust, his hands gripping Fenris' hips tightly for leverage. Each time he slammed home into the elf, he pushed Fenris into Anders. Fenris learned to time his withdrawals, and the three of them surged against each other, the slap slap of flesh punctuating groans of pleasure, and the wet sucking of Anders' lips on Zevran's cock.

It was all so surreal, this hedonistic pleasure, sweat dripping over heated flesh, the cock driving into him as Anders rutted back, his ass rippling every time Fenris thrust forward, aided by Aedan behind him. And when Anders reached behind him to touch Fenris' thigh, letting a trickle of magic slip through his brands, Fenris felt his mind ignite.

Nonsensical words tumbled form his lips. He didn't know what he was saying, only that he needed to speak, the words ripped from him, rising above the answer cries of pleasure. He told Anders how much he loved him. He urged Aedan on, telling him, 'please, please, please,' and 'more, more, more', crying out in Arcanum.

His hands scrambled under Anders, and his fingers fumbled with the leather cord that held the mage's orgasm at bay. With a quick, artless tug, the cord came free.

Anders screamed.

This last orgasm, long denied, was finally able to reign free. Anders' whole body shook as he rode out the waves. The mage made a sobbing sound of relief, a keening noise that rose in pitch as he came.

Fenris didn't give him any chance to recover. His thrusts became wilder, his own orgasm so damned close. In front of him, Zevran's hooded eyes watched Aedan. The assassin's cheeks were flushed red, and he moaned when Anders once more took him down to the base of his cock, finishing what he had started.

Aedan spread his hands across Fenris' chest, urging him upright. The elf's back was flush against Aedan's chest, and he turned his face to the side, arching his neck to meet Aedan's lips in a fierce kiss. Fenris didn't know how much more of this he could take. Every thrust of Aedan's ignited fire along his nerves, touching deep inside him.

There was a low moan, and Fenris opened his eyes just enough to see Zevran as the other elf came. His head was thrown back, his blonde hair trailing over his shoulders, and his lips parted on a wordless cry of satisfaction.

"So fucking beautiful, Zev," Aedan gritted out. "Love to see you… Love…"

Hearing Aedan's broken words-that he was just as affected as Fenris-was what did it for him. Fenris gasped into Aedan's lips, and then the world went white around the edges. His hands slapped behind him on Aedan's hips, his nails digging into the First Warden's skin as his cock jerked and he came. He clutched Aedan to him, pushing him in deeper and deeper as his orgasm crashed through him.

"Ah…" Aedan gasped. "Ah, fuck yeah…" Aedan gave three, shallow jerks of his hips before he came, his hands clenching and unclenching on Fenris' chest.

Slowly, Aedan sank backwards, taking Fenris with him, and pulling him from Anders. They kissed lazily, panting into each other's mouths.

Aedan pulled back. "Still good?" His voice was a bit shaky.

Fenris swallowed a few times before he could find his own voice. "Yes…"

And then he showed Aedan something that only Anders had really seen before.

Fenris gave him a genuine smile.


	90. Chapter 90

Thank you to everyone that is reading and has continued to read!

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><p>Fenris watched the griffon take off, Rhys on its back. He shivered, not because the aviary was cold, but because this was the first time he had been in the room for any length of time since he and Aedan had discovered Zevran, and uncovered the demons that had taken over Weisshaupt.<p>

"Well that was awkward," Anders drawled. "What in the Void was that supposed to mean?"

Fenris shook his head and turned towards the door. "I think Rhys meant exactly what he said. Going after Tevinter is personal for him. I have a feeling that he would have tried to storm the city on his own if no one else was going to do it." Fenris pushed through the door and moved down the spiraling flight of stairs, Anders behind him.

Fenris was groggy, tired, and even though Anders had healed his body and soothed his sore muscles, Fenris could swear he was feeling phantom pain in his… Fenris almost stumbled on the stairs, and he heard Anders chuckling behind him. Anders had had an almost permanent, smug grin on his face since the two of them had woken up on Aedan and Zevran's bed. It was… a little grating. Thank the Maker, the dwarven Ancestors, and the elven Creators that the mage hadn't said anything yet, or else Fenris knew he just might snap. He needed time to process what had happened and what had been said, before he was going to be ready to talk about to it Anders. Thankfully the mage seemed to sense that.

It didn't wipe that damned smirk off his face, though.

"But his brother," Anders said in a low whisper, "Maker…"

Fenris grunted in agreement. Before Rhys had left to rejoin the elvhen, he had told Fenris that he reminded him of his younger brother. His younger brother that had been one of the many that the magisters had used in their twisted ritual to open the Golden City. The brother that had been the only elvhen to survive.

Although Fenris didn't appreciate it, he understood now why Rhys treated him like a child. Fenris was in the same position that Rhys' brother had been in so long ago, and Rhys didn't want to see history repeat itself. He wanted Fenris ready for whatever would come his way, and not become a tool of the magisters.

Rhys' methods left a lot to be desired.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Fenris turned left instead of right. He had let something linger for far too long. He knew it was time to do something about it, and act like the friend he was supposed to be.

Maybe it was because of the emotional and physical upheaval of the night before, but Fenris had awakened to a few realizations. One of which, was that a good friend had needed him, and he had done nothing about it.

He and Anders had stopped by their room to clean up and dress before heading to the aviary to see Rhys off. Fenris had purposefully dressed in his full armor, his greatsword slung on his back. He tapped the clawed tips of his gauntlets together, the sound clicking in the nearly empty hallway.

"Where are you going?" Anders asked as he hurried to catch up with Fenris. He jerked his thumb in the opposite direction. "Food. That way."

"You go on ahead," Fenris said flatly. "I have some business to take care of."

"Oh, no. I know that tone of voice, and you're up to something." Fenris could tell the exact moment when Anders realized where they were headed. "Maker damn it! Love, this isn't a good idea. You might just make things worse for him."

"I don't think I will," Fenris intoned. He flexed his fingers as he stopped in front of a door. "If you don't want to be here, you should go. I'll be in the dining hall shortly." He raised his fist and pounded on the door.

He saw Anders roll his eyes and cross his arms over his chest in his periphery. "Yeah, no. Someone has to be level-headed and make sure you don't kill them. And Maker help you that I have to be that person. Because let's face it, I'm not the most level-headed—"

He was cut off when the door opened. A gruff looking man with far too much blonde hair on his face, and far too little on his head scowled down at Fenris. "Wha' ya want, knife ears?"

Fenris ignored Anders' soft curse and ran mocking eyes over the soldier. He wore the livery of the King of Ferelden, and Fenris happened to know that his name was Hayden.

He also knew that he was one of the men that had been threatening retribution on Carver.

"Do you know who I am?" Fenris asked, his voice eerily calm.

Hayden sneered, exposing a chipped tooth. "No. All you knife ears look alike ta me. Now get the fuck outta here." He made to slam the door in Fenris' face, but the elf was quicker. His hand shot out and his fingers curled around the edge of the door, stopping it in its tracks. The tips of his gauntlet dug into the wood, gouging deep lines.

Fenris continued on as if Hayden hadn't spoken. "Does the name Carver Hawke mean anything to you? Because I've heard some very disturbing things about you concerning my friend. It seems that despite making reparations to the man that Carver assaulted, you and your friends have taken it upon yourselves to harass him. If the victim has accepted his apology and so has your king, then I think it would be best that you stay as far away from my friend as possible."

Hayden turned a mottled shade of red. "Listen here," he blustered, "that shit stain can't just go walking around attacking people. You Wardens think you can do whatever you want and get away with it."

Fenris lowered his head and looked at Hayden through dark lashes, his eyes glittering chips of hard edged emerald. "It is done. This no longer concerns you. It never did in the first place."

"And it concerns you? Get the fuck outta here, and tell Hawke that this isn't over while you're sucking each other's pricks."

Fenris' lip curled in a patronizing smile. "That would be hard if I have his dick in my mouth. At least think before you come up with an insult."

Hayden gave an almost wordless cry of rage and drew his fist back.

"Oh, fuck," Anders muttered, "here we go."

With a flash, Fenris' brands ignited and he moved quicker than Hayden could see. He caught the other man's fist in his palm. Pushing pass the doorway, his other hand plunged into Hayden's chest in one swift movement.

Fenris drew his face close and peered in Hayden's panicked eyes. "I'm not as nice as Carver."

"More like Nate is nicer than all of you," Anders mumbled.

"And I think you would be well advised to leave well enough alone. Don't make me show you what your heart looks like. Call off your dogs. Carver has paid the man a goodly sum, and given a public apology—both were accepted. Back off, or else you'll find out firsthand how it really feels to have your every move stalked. Am I clear?"

Hayden's mouth opened and closed, and he jerked his head franticly in a nod.

"Good… If I find out that Carver Hawke has been cornered by you and your cohorts after this, I'm going to hold you personally responsible." Fenris tilted his head to the side. "Then I'll rip apart your friends." He jerked his arm back and let Hayden fall to the floor, gasping for breath.

Fenris turned to walk back out to the hall, and he paused. "You might want to get yourself cleaned up. You smell like piss now," he said without as much as a backwards glance.

* * *

><p>Carver paced back and forth in his sister's room. Cullen and Marian watched him, his sister's face expectant, and Cullen's carefully guarded.<p>

"I don't know about this," Carver hedged. He stopped in the middle of the thick rug and turned to face them. "Fuck, Marian, I want to get him back as badly as you do, but—"

"No, Carver. You don't. No one wants to get Malcolm back as badly as Cullen and I do. I don't care about the consequences. We can't wait another month for the armies to converge on Minrathous. If Fenris agrees, I mean to leave tonight to get my son back."

Carver threw his hands up. "The city was in chaos when I was there. Shit, Marian, we were lucky to make it out. If the magisters are concentrating on what's going on outside the walls, then they won't expect us. We follow the plan. We go in, find Malcolm, and get the control rod for the Juggernauts. Aedan is going to bring the mirror so we can escape the city and give the rod to Wynne." He pointed at Cullen. "Cullen, you, me, Fenris, Zevran and Anders. We go in and get the Void out before they know we're there. The armies outside will provide a distraction. Once we have the rod and are safely back with the army, we turn the Juggernauts against the magisters. If we leave now—"

"If we leave now I can see with my own eyes that my son is still alive," Marian hissed. "If we leave now, that lessens the chance of the magisters finding out that we brought an army, and then following through on their threat by killing Malcolm." She shot to her slipper clad feet. "I don't care about your fucking war! I just want my little boy back!" Tears spilled down her cheeks and she buried her face in her hands.

Carver took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her resistant body into an embrace. "I'm so sorry, Marian," he muttered into her short, dark hair. "I…" He blew out a breath and glanced over at Cullen.

Cullen didn't always show his emotions on his face. He could be closed off at times, a byproduct from having been a Templar for so long and seeing the things he had. But his emotions were clear for Carver to see, his anguish as he gazed at his wife open and naked. Carver had to look away from it, unable to deal with the older man's pain.

"All right," Carver breathed in resignation. "I'll… I'll talk to Fenris and see if we can't figure out something. Just don't… Just don't do what you always do, okay?"

Marian lifted her tearstained face. "And just what is it that I always do?"

"Make impulsive and dangerous choices. You like to rush headlong into things. Maker, you're worse than Anders or Merrill."

She gave him a weak smile. "Hawke family trait, Brother. Don't think you're exempt."

* * *

><p>It wasn't Fenris that had come up with a new plan, it had been Zevran. Maker, but the elf could be frightening in the way his mind worked.<p>

Carver walked in front of the closed door for what had to be the tenth time. And for the tenth time, he stopped in front of it his hand poised to knock, only to lower it and pace some more.

They would need at least two days to see if the plan was even feasible, and if it was, Maker, help them all. Allying themselves with darkspawn of all things. Later in the evening, Feynriel would attempt to contact one of the elvhen and explain what they had in mind. Depending on their answer, one of a few things would happen.

If they had a working Eluvian, one not buried under the city, then the armies would ready to march immediately. Once they reached the walls of Minrathous, they would use the Eluvian to transport the elvhen army right to them.

If not…

If not, then they would try and get the elvhen to agree to take to the Deep Roads, using the Architect's extensive knowledge of the underground passages that would lead them to Minrathous. It would shorten the Elvhen army's journey by weeks.

Zevran was advocating to do both, utilizing the Eluvian if they could to bring the Elvhen to them, and using the darkspawn to come up from right under the magister's feet.

It was a horrifying thought, and Carver had doubts it would even work. The Architect had freed darkspawn before from the Archdemon's song, to disastrous results. Could they even trust anything that he could bring to the table?

Carver didn't think so.

Still, no matter which way they were able to go, it would move up the time table by several weeks, shortening the chances of Minrathous preparing for an assault, and getting Marian that much closer to having Malcolm back in her arms.

Feynriel had said it might take him a few days to communicate back and forth with the Elvhen in dreams. Carver just hoped he would bring back good news.

He ran his hands over his face and groaned. No matter which way he looked at it, his part would always be the same. He would be joining the others in Minrathous to look for Malcolm and the control rod. There had been no question that he would help look for his nephew, but that wasn't what had Carver pacing in the empty hallway.

Things were coming to a head, and he might not make it back. He felt that he needed to be realistic about his chances. Malcolm and the control rod came first, no exceptions. Carver was prepared to lay down his life for that little boy, but something kept giving him pause, the hint of regret and things left unsaid.

But that summed up Carver's life-unspoken words, and never reaching for what he really wanted. But he was about to take a huge risk, and the part of him that always balked at doing something risky that could make him happy, reared its ugly, and too often seen, head.

So here he was, pacing in front of Nathaniel Howe's door, trying to talk himself into knocking. He paused and straightened his plain brown tunic. This was ridiculous. He was willing to jump through a magical portal and enter one of the most dangerous cities in Thedas, but he couldn't bring himself to knock on a damned door.

What's the worst that could happen?

What he knew of Nate he liked, almost too much, and if Carver was being honest with himself, he was scared. But with a probable death looming over him, tapping on his shoulder and reminding him that he didn't want to go out without saying something to yet another person about how he felt, he had ended up in front of Nate's door before he had even realized he had made the decision.

The latch to the door clicked, and Carver whirled around to face it. Nate peered through the doorway, and raised an eyebrow at the younger man. "You were standing out there for so long I thought I would just go ahead and invite you in."

"I…" Carver scratched at the back of his neck. "How did you—"

"You were muttering to yourself."

Great. Perfect. Carver needn't have worried about embarrassing himself by knocking on the door. He had been doing just fine humiliating himself in front of his unknown audience.

Nate gave him a small smile and stepped back, gesturing for Carver to come in. When Carver hesitated, Nate tilted his head to the side. "Is this about what Fenris did?"

That got Carver moving. He stepped over the threshold and Nate closed the door behind him. "No. Maker, what was he thinking? He could've made things worse."

Nate laughed softly behind him. "If Fenris is nothing else, he is fiercely protective towards those he cares about. Now that I think about it, I'm surprised he didn't do it sooner."

"I guess I should be thankful he didn't disembowel the man, and leave his intestines strung up for the maids to find." Carver stared down at the rug under his boots, studying the intricate weave. It was a safe place to look, anywhere but the large bed that took up a good portion of the room.

"Then why are you here?" came Nate's voice in his ear.

Carver jumped. Maker, he hadn't even heard Nate move. The man could be as eerily silent as Zevran when he wanted to be. Close… Nate was too close. Carver cleared his throat and look at the bare wall beyond Nate's shoulder. He breathed shallowly through slightly parted lips. That damned hunger rose inside him, and he clenched his hands into fists to force the clawing need down.

"Carver?" Nate placed a hand on his shoulder and Carver jerked free, taking a step back.

"You have no idea, do you?" Carver blurted out.

Nate shook his head. "I don't—"

Striding forward, Carver crowded Nate, getting into his space. He dropped his head down, his lips inches from the other man's throat, and inhaled deeply, breathing in the other man's scent. It was the mixture of leather and male, so very different from anything else that Carver had come across before. It was heady, and it never failed to bring something primal out in him. "Do you know what you do to me?" Carver asked. "I find myself straining to hear your every word. Your voice… Your smell…" He breathed in again. "Fuck… I know where you've been just by this wonderful scent that lingers in the room." He saw Nate's pulse jump in his throat. "I want—"

"What do you want, Carver?" Nate asked softly.

Carver flicked his eyes up. "You."


	91. Chapter 91

Nate speared his fingers through Carver's hair. Angling Carver's head to the side, Nate crushed their lips together. Carver groaned into the kiss, his arms coming up to clutch at the older man's shoulders. Nate's tongue delved into Carver's mouth, and he growled in appreciation when the favor was returned.

The kiss broke and the two men stared at each other, gasping for breath. Nate released Carver, sliding his hands over Carvers' cheeks and neck, touching his smooth shaven jaw and the thumping pulse at his throat, before stepping back.

"I can't do this again," Nate said. "Tell me that this isn't just because of the Joining. Tell me that I'm not going to wake up in the morning to find you gone."

Carver reached out for him in dismay. "No! I'm not going to lie, the Joining might have… It's not like that, though. Don't you understand that I have the same fears? I've given my heart twice in my life, and both times have ended…" He drew in a sharp breath. "None of us have the luxury of second guessing ourselves anymore. Trust that I mean it when I say… when I…" Carver gave a frustrated cry. He was on Nate before the other man knew Carver had even moved. He backed Nate up against the bed, pushing him when the backs of his knees hit the mattress. He followed Nate down, landing on top of him.

Bracing his hands on either side of Nate's head, Carver stared unflinching into his eyes. "I love you. Maybe in another time I would have hesitated, fought it more, but I can't. I don't know if I'm going to come back from Minrathous. I don't know if you will. I have to make sure my sister and my nephew make it out alive. Nothing else matters but that. I don't want any more regrets. I don't want to have yet another time when I should have said something until it was too late. I don't—"

He was cut off when Nate lifted his head, silencing Carver with his lips. Grasping Carver by the shoulders, Nate rolled the younger man under him, slotting himself between his legs. "You're coming to the Vigil with me when this is all over," Nate said gruffly. It wasn't a question but a pronouncement. "I was… I was going to let you come to me on your own. I'm glad you did. I didn't want to have to come and drag you to bed."

"Yes, ser, Warden-Commander, ser." Carver's fingers went to the buckles holding Nate's leather jerkin shut. "Are there any other orders, ser?"

Nate sucked in a breath at Carver's tone. He had never been one for playing games in the bedchamber. Isabela had taught him differently. There had been times when he'd do ne it just to please her, while other times had been on his own initiative. He felt the leather part and he let Carver slip the jerkin off his shoulders. Nate lifted one hand off the sheets, and then another, as the jerkin was pulled free and flung off the end of the bed.

"Depends, Warden Hawke," Nate rasped. "Are you going to use that Templar training of yours and keep yourself alive?"

Their locked eyes and Carver was the first to look away, turning his head to the side. "I have to save Malcolm. I can't promise something like that."

"That's not what I'm asking," Nate insisted. He pushed his fingers against Carver's jaw, urging his face back. "You're reckless, at least when it comes to your own well-being. I've asked around about you, and I've seen it myself. You don't have anything to prove, Carver."

If anyone knew about doing reckless things because they thought they had something to prove, it was Nathaniel Howe. He had tempered himself over the years, but he would never forget breaking into the Vigil with the intention to kill Aedan. He saw a bit of himself in Carver, that yearning to show others that they could stand out from under a family member's shadow. His whole young life, Nate had had to hear how he had to prove himself worthy of the Howe name. Running to the Free Marches had been his first act of real defiance, and it had almost killed him to come back to Ferelden to find his father dead, and the whole of Thedas thinking he'd been a traitor. As much as he had resented his father, the ingrained pride of the Howe name had had him baiting Aedan Cousland in a dungeon cell.

When he though on it now, Nate knew that he couldn't have ever killed Aedan and gotten away with it. Never mind that Aedan had become a good friend. Even if he had been able to best the Hero of Ferelden in combat, Zevran would have hunted Nate down and made sure his death was painful and prolonged.

He knew the kinds of things that one could be driven too when they thought they had something to prove to the world. Nate had been lucky to have Aedan and his sister in his life to talk some sense into him. Well, more that his sister did that part. With Aedan, Nate had been forced to be the one to talk sense, thus creating an environment where he'd had to examine his own actions.

"Are you ganging up with my sister now?" Carver asked with no trace of heat in his voice. "She's been telling me that my whole life."

"You should listen to her, she loves you."

Nate could see the hesitation in Carver's eyes before they softened. "And you?"

"I love you too."

* * *

><p>After that, Carver couldn't say how they managed to get out of their clothes, flinging them haphazardly off the bed. It had been a tangle of limbs, sloppy kisses, and caressing touches, their hands moving over each other as new skin was exposed.<p>

Carver had ended up on top, moving down Nate's body towards the erection he could feel pressing insistently against his stomach. It had been so long since he'd felt another's skin against his own, the heat leaching into his body and causing droplets of sweat to trickle over his skin. He nipped at the juncture between Nate's hip and groin, soothing the sting away with his tongue. He breathed over Nate's cock and watched as a bead of precum slipped free.

"Remember when we were hiding from the king's men?" Carver whispered. "I wanted to do this to you so bad." His tongue darted out and he ran a long, wet line up the shaft in front of him.

"Maker…" Nate hissed between clenched teeth. "For the record, I wouldn't have been opposed to it."

"I'll remember that for the next time we're hiding in a broom closet," Carver assured him. His lips parted and wrapped around the head of Nate's cock, his tongue lashing at the glans on the underside. He was rewarded with a moan of pleasure and the tang of precum on his tongue.

For a moment, Carver had the fear that he wasn't going to be any good at this. It had been so long since he'd been with anyone, and he and Fenris had only slept together the one time. Nate had been with Isabela off and on for years, and she was not shy when it came to talking openly of her skills.

His eyes hardening into steel, Carver made up for the lost years with enthusiasm. He listened to the noises that Nate made, the times when he would moan and when his breathing would hitch. He may not be able to take the older man down without choking, but he was going to make sure that Nate didn't notice the lack.

Nate's fingers scrambled to clutch at Carver's hair, tugging at the dark strands. Carver responded by wrapping his hand around the base of Nate's cock, sliding the hardened flesh through his fist in time with his mouth. His other hand cradled Nate's sac, rolling them gently between his fingers. He could feel their inexorable climb towards the base of the other man's cock, signaling his oncoming climax.

One of Nate's hands left Carver's head to smack on top of the sheets, balling the material up in his fist. Carver felt a moment of triumph that he had made Nate feel like this, that the other man needed something, anything, to hold onto to keep him grounded.

As Nate's cock swelled under his tongue, that triumph grew. Carver was almost impossibly hard now, so turned on that he was the one creating the noises that were issuing from Nate's lips, that it was his name that came strangled out from Nate's throat as his cock jerked and released.

Carver licked him clean, greedily swallowing every drop that Nate's body had to give to him. This was his now. As he rose up to crawl over Nate, taking his lips in a deep kiss, he saw the way the other man looked at him, so different from how Fenris and Merrill had.

When Nate had said he loved Carver, he believed it.

* * *

><p>Pushing another slick finger into the man under him, Nate watched the growing arousal in Carver's eyes. He leaned down to kiss him again. Nate couldn't get enough of kissing Carver-the way he would sigh into Nate's lips, or how he used his whole mouth, his teeth tugging on Nate's bottom lip, his tongue darting inside. It was heady, and Nate swore to himself that he would make sure that the two of them spent every moment the Maker was willing to give them together doing just that.<p>

Well, not _just_ that.

He angled his fingers just right and Nate arched his back into them, crying out. Breaking the kiss, Nate leaned down and took a pert nipple between his lips, lashing at the stiffened flesh with his tongue as he pulled his fingers in and out, opening Carver up.

"That's… enough," Carver moaned. His hands were above his head, gripping the pillow tightly. His legs were splayed wide, his cock rock hard and twitching with each touch over his prostate. The fine dark hairs that were scattered below Carver's navel were glistening with precum.

Nate sat back and swiped his slick hand over his cock, fisting his erection tightly. He groaned and watched Carver lick his lips as if he was remembering taking Nate's cock into his mouth.

With one hand braced next to Carver's head, Nate used the other to guide himself into the younger man. There was a small resistance at first and Nate waited, gently pushing the head against his elfroot slicked hole.

"Relax," Nate murmured. He felt it the moment Carver did, his body opening up and allowing Nate to slide inside.

"Shit…" Carver hissed, his neck bowing back.

"Hurts?" Nate asked him quietly.

"No…" he panted. "Feels good. Maker, you feel…"

"How about this?" Pulling back, Nate snapped his hips forward, burying himself deep inside Carver.

Carver's breath hitched in his throat, and he panted through kiss-swollen lips. "More," he demanded. "Give me more."

"Everything," Nate answered. As soon as he said it, the words flying unbidden, he knew that he meant it. No matter what it took, he was going to make sure that Carver came back to him. That Carver was going to have a _reason_ to want to come back to him.

He started a languid rhythm, grinding Carver into the mattress below him. Sweat broke out on his back as he worked his cock in and out, the muscles on his arms and thighs straining with each thrust.

Carver let go of the pillow and grabbed his own legs, holding them behind the knees to raise him higher. Nate watched as arousal took over Carver's features, darkening his eyes as his pupils grew wide and the way he took his bottom lips between his teeth.

"Maker, yes!" Carver moaned.

Nate leaned down and kissed him, taking his cries into his mouth. Every moan, every sigh of need was Nate's to have. There had always been a bit of Isabela that had been held back from Nate. He had always known that, but he hadn't realized the lack until now. This was what it was like to share yourself with someone, to make love to them without a guarded heart. He had been as much to blame for what had happened between him and Isabela. He had been just as distant. They may have shared their bodies, but not their hearts.

It was such a silly, fanciful thought, that Nate smiled against Carver's lips. He pulled back enough to see Carver grinning at him as well.

Carver let go of his legs and wrapped his arms around Nate's neck, pulling him closer until their chests were crushed together. Their bodies rolled against each other, Nate's cock shuttling in and out of the younger man.

He had just enough presence of mind to push a hand between them, encircling Carver's cock with a tight grip. With barely three strokes, Carver was screaming against Nate's lips, semen jetting out to paint their abdomens.

The way Carver looked just then, his face open and vulnerable, did Nate in. With a few thrusts far harsher than any of the others, he gritted his teeth and came, his cock pulsing inside Carver's clinging backside.

When Nate made to pull away, Carver locked his legs in the small of his back, preventing him from moving. "Don't go just yet," he croaked.

Nate chuckled softly. "I'm not going anywhere."


	92. Chapter 92

It took them two weeks to make the trek to the walls of Minrathous. Armies were slow moving, and one as large as the one that had made its way across the border to Tevinter even more so.

The dwarves had beaten them there by days, having used the Deep Roads, and were waiting when the armies of Thedas arrived. They had already begun collapsing tunnels under the city, cutting off any avenue of escape.

Tevinter knew they were there. An army of this size did not move quietly. Minrathous had known for a week what was heading in their direction. As they had passed by farmlands and small villages, they had been empty, their crops stripped from their fields. Tevinter was not going to feed the army, was not going to allow them to loot from the land. The gate had been closed and barred, and on top of the walls of the city, war machines and guards looked down at them.

When the army had made camp in front of the massive walls, an emissary had immediately been sent out from behind the locked and barred great gates.

Anders had to admit, he was more than delighted to see who it was.

"Imp! Fancy seeing you here. Would you like some wine? Fenris found some in a quaint, but empty, village we passed by." He was seated behind a long table in the command tent with Aedan and Zevran. Anders thought that everyone should have a tent like this one. Rugs had been rolled out on the ground and were soft against Anders' bare feet. He had taken his boots off just to feel the fibers between his toes. There was wine and food lined up on the table, amidst maps and scrolls. It was much better than the small canvas tent he and Fenris shared. Maybe when this was over Aedan would let him have it. You know, because Aedan was a nice guy and all.

His stomach rebelled as he speared a piece of cold ham with a knife and popped it into his mouth. Maybe his stomach was still weakened from his days spent under the influence of magebane, or maybe it was Plinius' presence. Anders was betting on both.

Plinius narrowed his dark eyes on Anders. "I was hoping you had perished on your way to Weisshaupt.

"Sorry," Anders grinned. "No wait, I'm not sorry. Tell me, did you get demoted? I bet you're not the favorite of the Archon now. What with letting me escape and all."

Plinius twitched his crimson robes, as if there was something foul in the tent that might contaminate the fine fabric. "I am here, am I not? The Archon trusts me as always."

Anders waved his knife at the magister. "Now, now, no lies. Emissaries have a nasty habit of getting killed by opposing armies. Even I know that one."

"I don't see the slave with you. I thought the two of you were never to be parted." Plinius' lips curled in a sneer.

"I don't own slaves, but if you mean Fenris, then he's off doing Fenris things. Don't worry your not-so-pretty head about it." They had dragged the Eluvian with them, hauling it in a well-guarded cart. Fenris was helping the Elvhen use it to bring their army to them. As they spoke, the Elvhen were spilling out of an innocuous tent placed in the center of camp.

Aedan stepped in front of Plinius, blocking his line of sight to Anders and drawing him back to his purpose. "Tell the Archon to surrender the city to us. We will have no other terms." He waited for Zevran to translate, impatiently tapping his fingers on the pommel of his sword.

Anders rolled his eyes. Who thought it was a good idea to let Aedan negotiate? Oh… that's right, because they weren't really here to negotiate, and Aedan was the best one to make that clear.

Plinius tilted his head to the side and smiled. "Then you and your army will perish. We will not be dictated to by pretenders to the Archon's seat. We know you have Gaius Clavis with you, as well as Cato. We do not care what they told you in order to join their cause. Our terms are just as simple. Leave or find your bones ground to dust with so many others at the walls. We will not hesitate to use the Juggernauts. Our walls have stood for centuries, and they will stand for more."

Glancing over his shoulder at Anders, Aedan gave him a look of pure boredom. He sighed and looked back to Plinius. "Yeah? Well they told me that I couldn't unite Ferelden, and that I would die if I tried to kill the Archdemon. I don't know why people like to tell me I can't do something. It only makes me want to prove them wrong."

"I know who you are, Hero of Ferelden. The Archon is not impressed. You will have one day to quit the field."

"Did he just say he wasn't impressed with me?" Aedan asked Zevran when the assassin finished translating.

"I am sorry, my dear Warden," the elf replied. "He did. If it makes you feel any better, I am always impressed with you."

"I am too!" Anders piped up from behind him. "Oh, fearless leader."

"Anders," Aedan sighed, "you're impressed when Pounce manages to lick his own ass."

"Well, he is a bit big now a days. I miss my baby."

"Let's just get this over with." With that, Aedan pulled his sword free and pointed it at Plinius. Anders didn't even bother to hide his delight at the way the magister backed up. "You have twenty minutes to leave my camp, or else I'll carve you up and send you back to the Archon in pieces. We're not leaving. Tevinter thinks it can dictate to the rest of Thedas. Thedas is here to show you why you can't."

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards Anders. "You kidnapped one of my Wardens, and I don't take very kindly to that. If I didn't need to follow these inane protocols of war, then I would take your head now and send it in a lovely box to the Archon, courtesy of the First Warden."

"You're a fool," Plinius spat. Yet for all his words, he still turned and practically fled the tent, the guards falling into step behind him.

"Make sure he leaves!" Aedan called out to them. "If not then drag him back to me."

Anders stood up and clapped. "That was beautiful! I'll give you a blowjob if you go after him and cut off his limbs anyway."

Aedan ignored him, but Anders didn't miss the way his eyes had heated slightly at the thought. "Are you and the others almost ready to leave?" he asked instead.

"Way to bring the mood down, Aedan." Anders wrinkled his nose. "We've hit a bit of a problem. Rhys is insisting on coming with us. Fenris isn't too happy with the idea. He thinks he's up to something."

"Worshiper of Flemeth?" Aedan cocked an eyebrow at the mage. "Why would he think that Rhys is up to something? Flemeth has been so forthcoming with us," he said dryly.

"So I take it he's coming with us then?" Anders asked.

"If he can get the job done, then I don't care about his reasons at this point."

* * *

><p>Fenris lifted the hood of his dark cloak up, and adjusted the folds so it covered his sword. If he had to draw it he was going to have to pull the dark cloak off first. As it was, it didn't do it a very good job at concealing the hilt shaped bulge on his back. What it did do, was shroud his face in shadows. Anders had a similar cloak on, and he grumbled as he raised the hood.<p>

Nate and Carver were whispering to each other in hurried tones at one end of the tent that enclosed the Eluvian. Carver was wearing a nondescript armor just as Cullen and Fenris were. Marian and Anders were dressed in simple mage robes, Marian's staff on her back. In place of a staff, Anders had a sword belted to his side. It had been given to him by Wynne, and she had assured him that some great arcane warrior had wielded it once. Fenris didn't know if that part was true or not, but when he came close to it he could feel the magic in the steel pulling at his brands in an answering hum.

Anders might not be the best swordsman, but he didn't need to be. Fenris had worked with him on and off for years, and Anders was competent enough. It was the magic that would really do the damage needed to defend him. When Anders had told him of how he had escaped the Archon's Tower, Fenris couldn't have possibly been more proud.

"Anders!" Nate called over. "Can you translate something for us? Two Wardens in the armory said something to Carver and it's been driving him crazy."

"Anderfels?" Anders asked.

"It's not what they said, it what they did," Carver protested. The two men walked over to Anders and Fenris. "One of them pinched my cheeks, said something, and then they both laughed. I was there to get armor, not to be accosted."

Fenris folded his arms over his chest and grinned under his hood. "This I need to hear." They were waiting on Zevran, and the elf was taking his sweet time. Fenris understood it, though. He was sure it had less to do with Zevran and more to do with Aedan. The First Warden was not taking his lover leaving without him very well. Rhys hadn't shown yet either, but Fenris was more than willing to leave without him.

"Wait, one of the men in the armory pinched your cheeks?" Marian asked. She didn't even bother to fight her grin.

Carver rolled his eyes. "It was a woman. There were two of them."

A burst of laughter escaped Anders. "Tanya and Laurie I'd be willing to bet. What did they say? One of them slapped my ass once when I walked by. I don't think there is a male or female in Weisshaupt that is safe from them." Carver repeated it in broken Anderfels and silence fell over the tent.

"Wait," Anders said carefully, "did one of them tell you that you were a silly boy? I… I…"

Carver tossed his hands up and glared at Anders as the mage doubled over in laughter. "Laugh all you want. Those women are a menace if what you say is true. What in the Void are they doing in the armory if they act like that?"

Fenris actually knew the answer to that one. "Because they know their craft. They can size a Warden up and outfit them quicker than any other."

"They can size them up," Anders started, "because they like to look at—"

"All right, stop! Maker's balls…" Carver murmured. "I'll just be thankful I escaped with my virtue intact."

With the way that Nate was watching Carver while the younger man spoke, Fenris had a feeling that what little virtue Carver had left was gone now. He was happy for his friends, but he couldn't help but notice the small hint of fear in the Warden-Commander's eyes.

He would be lying if he didn't admit to himself that he was a little frightened of what was to come for them all. He knew the ferocity of the magisters, and he knew what they were capable of when backed into a corner. But even if Fenris wanted to, there was no turning back now.

Aedan walked into the tent, a grim expression on his face, followed by Rhys and Zevran. He stopped in front of the Eluvian and turned to look at them each in turn. "You go in, get Malcolm and the control rod, and then get out. The dwarves and the few darkspawn that the Architect have gathered will be waiting at tunnel entrances scattered throughout the city in case you can't get back to an eluvian. You are not there for revenge." He specifically looked at Fenris and Rhys. "You are there to do three jobs-Malcolm, the rod, and come back alive. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, Daddy," Anders said.

Aedan scrubbed at his faced with his hands. "Anders, you know I love you, right? But I swear to the Maker, you make me want to strangle you."

"You already did once, remember?" Anders blurted out.

Fenris closed his eyes and was grateful for the hood that covered his mortified features. Outside of the four of them, no one knew what they had done together before leaving Weisshaupt. Fenris meant to keep at it that way. It was no one's business.

Thankfully, Aedan did nothing more than blink before turning back to the rest of them. "Good luck. You will have two hours before we attack."

Zevran launched himself at Aedan, wrapping his legs around the taller man's waist and crushing their lips together. Rhys bypassed them and walked over to the Eluvian. The Elvhen were far more adapt at controlling the mirrors. If anything good came from his presence, it was that they would be able to get in and out of the city that much quicker.

Dropped back to his feet, Zevran gave Aedan one last kiss before checking to make sure that his daggers were secured at his hips. "Keep the bed warm for me, my Warden," he told Aedan. "You will show them why I stay with you, yes? Kill many magisters for me."

"And people think I'm bloodthirsty," Aedan chuckled.

"They have not had sex with you against a boulder after a battle. You cannot blame them for their ignorance." Zevran sobered. "I mean it, Aedan. Do not die on me."

In reply, Aedan reached into a small pouch at his waist. He held out his hand and opened his fingers. A small earring sat in his palm, blue gems flickering in the light of the Eluvian. The images in the Eluvian stopped their rapid movement, so much quicker than what Fenris had been capable of. The storeroom they had entered from the last time they had been in Minrathous, sat waiting on the other side. Zevran gave Aedan a small smile and was the first to go through it to scout ahead.

Aedan clutched the earring in his palm and let out a shuddering breath, before he turned and strode from the tent, his back ramrod straight. Fenris knew that Aedan had to go. If he were in the First Warden's position, he would have sat in front of the mirror waiting for Anders' return, fuck what was happening around him.

Marian and Cullen went next, the two of them stepping through the mirror without a backward glance. Marian had had a look on her face that Fenris had seen many times before. It spoke of determination and anger. Maker, help whoever had her child. They certainly wouldn't get any mercy from his parents.

Fenris had the realization that they were going to save the child that was responsible for giving Anders to him. If it hadn't been for Malcolm, then Marian would never have felt the need to hide the true nature of his paternity by colluding with Anders. Without Malcolm, Fenris wouldn't have felt the need to follow Anders everywhere in order to find out what the two of them were hiding. He wouldn't have gone into the Deep Roads to keep Anders safe. He wouldn't have become tainted. He wouldn't have met Nathaniel. Because of Malcolm, Anders had sacrificed himself to save Marian, letting the Templars take him. So much had happened because of that child, life's strange little twists and turns. Maybe he and Anders would have come together eventually, but the path would have been longer, and fraught with bitterness. Everything felt like it was coming full circle. To save a child, Anders had risked all. Now here they were, years later, prepared to do the same thing again.

In his periphery, Fenris saw Nate and Carver embrace and kiss. His lips twitched into a smile. He was going to make sure they all came back from this, these people who he owed everything to.

Carver took a step back, turning reluctantly away from Nate, before walking through the Eluvian and out of sight. That only left Anders, Rhys, and Fenris. He jerked with a start when Anders' fingers slipped down and entwined with Fenris' own.

"Ready, Love?" Anders asked.

"Yes." And together they walked into the portal.


	93. Chapter 93

_**WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS INCOMING**_

If there was a way to make this blink I would do that too.

* * *

><p>Minrathous was in chaos.<p>

The seven of them ran through the city streets, weaving through the crowd of fleeing people. They weren't running from an oncoming war, they weren't barring the doors to their houses to escape what awaited them on the other side of the wall that encircled the city. As they pushed pass the oncoming wave, forging deeper into the heart of the city, everyone, from slave to magisters, young and old, rich and poor, had the same look of terror on their faces.

"We're almost there!" Zevran shouted behind him. He was leading them on, pushing against the relentless stream in the streets.

Anders held tightly onto Fenris' hand, feeling the cold bit of steel from his gauntlet. No one stopped to look at any of them twice, except what was necessary to get by them. The people of Minrathous had other worries besides a few odd looking strangers.

They had waited in the storeroom for almost an hour while Zevran slipped out to scout ahead. It hadn't occurred to Anders until well into their wait that the shop was silent. It was the middle of the day, and there should have been at least someone here. It was Carver who had opened the door to peek out, finding the shop empty.

When Zevran returned, it hadn't been alone. A rat like man named Tatius was with him. Carver and Fenris had seemed to know him, and that had been the only reason that Anders had relaxed some of the tension in his shoulders.

With little explanation, Zevran had told Rhys to activate the Eluvian to allow Tatius through. With a few whispered words to Tatius, Zevran had sent the little man right into the center of their camp, clutching a piece of parchment in his hand.

When the mirror had gone silent once more, plunging them into near darkness, Zevran had explained what his informant and former colleague had told him.

In exchange for safe passage out of the city, Tatius had told Zevran exactly what they had needed to know. That the control rod was currently with the Archon, on his very person, and that Malcolm was with him as well.

But as with everything in life, it wasn't going to be as simple as getting to him.

The city was in political and physical chaos. After they had escaped from Minrathous, the Archon had installed a crony as the new Black Divine. The Black Divine had in turn, declared that the Maker had come to him, and told him that Therion was his representative on Thedas, that he alone would usher Tevinter into a golden age.

Alone…

The Archon had dissolved the senate, slaughtering half of them, and giving those that had supported him the wealth of the fallen.

It had all taken place in a matter of days.

Magisters had been dispatched all over Thedas. Plans had been enacted that had been in place for years. In a month, the Archon had not only destroyed Minrathous, but he had spelled doom for Tevinter.

Which had led them out to the streets the, forcing their way through the crowd as the people of Minrathous fled the Coliseum. The Archon was there. Malcolm was there. The control rod was there.

So was the horror that the Archon had enacted.

He had forced the whole city to watch, emptying out the houses and shops. No one had been exempt. The Coliseum had been filled to bursting in order to watch the spectacle that would raise the Archon up. The arena floor had been covered with lyrium, shining brightly under the noon day sun. In the center lay an altar, draped in chains, and elven slaves had ringing the edges. The elves had been made to fight one another for their freedom. Those that had refused had been slaughtered outright, their bodies stacked in a gruesome pile. In the end, one elf had won, painted in the blood of her brethren, bleeding from numerous wounds.

It was she that had been strapped screaming to the altar. It had been this nameless woman that had had burning lyrium seared into her flesh while the Archon chanted. The people of Minrathous weren't fools. They all knew the stories. They all knew what he was doing while an army awaited on their doorstep. The magic that the Archon had wrought had almost killed him Tatius had said.

When it was over the people had fled, knowing that their end did not await them outside the walls, but within.

Abominations roamed the streets, called up from the Fade by frightened magisters. There was the constant din of screaming, and the tang of blood filled the air along with the acrid stench of demons. Still the seven of them forged on, determined to reach the Archon before he used his newly made Key, before he left this world entirely.

Anders' free hand gripped the hilt of his sword as the Coliseum rose up in front of them. Considered one of the greatest architectural achievements of its time, it now would be remembered as the place where the Archon had reached above himself to seize power that should never have been touched. The crowd was thinning now. Most of the populous had escaped and were rushing towards their homes to cower in fear.

Anders didn't blame them. There was something in the air, a finality to it all. One couldn't help but feel it leeching into their skin, crawling over their psyche.

Zevran led them into one of the many openings into the Coliseum, moving through a maze like series of stairs and door ways that had Anders disoriented. They burst out into the light, each one of them frozen in horror at the sight below them.

Tatius hadn't exaggerated. The arena floor was a mess of congealing blood and dead bodies. The lyrium that had covered the ground had been spent, and Anders couldn't get his mind to comprehend what kind of magic it had taken to do such a thing to so much lyrium. Next to him, Fenris and Rhys both cursed.

"This is what they did to my brother," Rhys hissed between clenched teeth. "Monsters."

They will never stop," Fenris growled. "We must put an end to this or die trying."

"Over there!" Marian cried. They followed her pointing finger to one side of the arena. There were four figures huddled together. Two humans, a nude elven woman with a shock of white hair to her waist, tinted red with blood, and a small boy.

"Malcolm," Marian breathed. She was off before any of them could stop her, racing through the bench seating made out of hard marble.

"Shit." Cullen chased after her, his sword leaving its scabbard.

The rest of them weren't far behind, Rhys and Zevran making quicker time by leaping over the seating with cat like grace. They caught up to Marian as she reached the edge, placing her palms on it without stopping and jumping over it to land with a roll to the ground. Then she was on her feet again, racing across the arena, her staff in her hands and a scream on her lips.

"Give him back!"

* * *

><p>When the battle engaged, Aedan made sure he was right in the thick of it. It took Nate and Alistair to drag him back from the wall, telling him that losing himself in a fight wasn't going to bring Zevran back any quicker.<p>

The magisters on the walls summoned demons to the ground below, while the soldiers lobbed arrows and fiery boulders at the invading army. On the other side of the city, the Qun were busy with a fight of their own, cutting off Minrathous from the sea. Isabela had gone with them, and the irony didn't escape those that knew her. The Arishok had had an armada waiting, hidden from Minrathous' prying eyes.

The Templars and the mages were assigned to various units, aiding them with healing and dispatching the demons.

The demons were relentless.

But the magisters hadn't counted on the darkspawn. They swarmed from tunnels dug around the city, breaking free from the earth. The horde that the Architect had created were just as viscous as the demons. Ogres thundered across the battlefield, flinging friend and foe alike from their path. In a twisted way, this was as much their fight as it was the rest of Thedas. Tevinter had created them, and it was time they saw what their arrogance had done.

Aedan strode back to the command tent, ripping his gauntlets from his hands in angry jerks. He slapped them down on the long table that had less food than it did before, and snatched at a piece of wrinkled parchment. His eyes scanned the contents, as if the elegant lines would say anything different than it had before.

Zevran and the others knew where the control rod was. They knew where Malcolm was. Oh, and the Archon was insane and had created another Key.

P.S. Tatius gave us the information. Please make sure that he has safe passage from the battle.

P.P.S When I return, I'm going to make sure that you find me in your bed wearing nothing but that earring. Your guess is as good as mine where I will be wearing it.

Aedan smiled. Zev would come back to him, his Crow always did.

* * *

><p>"We need to shoot him down," Sebastian said. He lowered the spyglass that Sigrun had lent him and collapsed it with a snap.<p>

"I recognize him." Nate nodded towards the direction of the magister on the wall, directing the others. "He was the emissary that the Archon sent."

"Should've killed him," Oghren grumbled. He hefted his blood covered axe over his shoulder. Can't reach the blighter now, can we?"

"Wasn't he one of the magisters that took Anders?" Sigrun asked. "Anders was muttering about it when he left.

"That he was, Beautiful." Varric smiled at her. "Seems he needs extra killing for that.

Plinius stood high on top of the wall, his rich robes making him stand out, a perfect target if only they could reach him. While killing him wouldn't stop the onslaught of demons and spells, it would demoralize the blood mages on the wall. The problem was that even if someone could reach him, they would have to get passed the swarm of demons right below.

Lizette and Leliana's last report had said that they had only suffered minimal losses so far, but that was only because the bulk of the army were on the outer edges of the fray. Once the darkspawn had been let loose to battle the demons, the army had moved back. Eventually the darkspawn would be overrun and the army would be forced to fully engage.

They needed to kill Plinius before that happened.

He would eventually be replaced, but it would buy them the time they needed during the chaos that would ensue, to finish off the rest of the demons and move forward.

"I can do it."

The group turned as one to glance at Denerou. The normally quiet elf gave them a crooked grin. He nodded towards the bulk of the demons. "I've hit targets further before."

"You're a fool." Morrigan slammed the bottom of her staff on the ground to emphasize her point. "You might make it in there, but you won't make it out alive."

"Does it matter?" he asked her. "I've said I can do it, and I can. He needs to die. Soldiers without a commander are disoriented for a time."

"These aren't soldiers," Morrigan hissed. "These are magisters, you stubborn elf. They will strike you down the second your arrow is loosed."

"Then that's my problem, isn't it?" Denerou pulled his bow free from his back, his fingers running over the intricately carved wood. "If I die, then I want Merrill to be the one to see to my body. She'll know what to do."

Morrigan threw her hand in the air and turned her back on him, striding away. "Why must I persist in conversing with the foolish? Have your heroic death, tis no concern of mine," she called over her shoulder.

"Denerou," Nate started. He had known the elf for years, had fought with him in the Deep Roads. He and Fenris were friends. "You don't have to do this." But Nate knew that Denerou was right. He didn't need his ego stroked, and knew that the dalish was a far better archer than Nate had ever been. If there was anyone that could make the shot, it was him.

Denerou gave Nate an elegant bow. "I've never called any of my Warden brothers and sisters shemlen," he said as he straightened. "We Wardens are all short lived, are we not? Besides, you've been more of a family to me than my clan was. Thank you for showing me new things and for letting me see the world as I wished to."

Blowing out a resigned breath, Nate shook his head. "Don't tell it to me, tell it to Aedan when you come back. He's the one that recruited you when you showed up on our doorstep. Go and take your shot, Warden. Come back alive."

"Wait!" Sebastian pulled his bow free and held it out. "This is the Starkhaven longbow. It once had belonged to my grandfather, and it has served my family well. Take it."

Denerou glanced from the bow that Sebastian offered to his own, then back again. He licked his lips in the first show of nerves. "Thank you. I'll bring it back to you." The two men traded weapons, and Denerou ran his fingers over it and gave it a few experimental tugs.

"I've seen Choir Boy shoot bandits dead from several paces away with that. You can't miss now," Varric declared.

"Velanna will be so angry if you died." Sigrun wrapped her arms around Denerou's waist. "And you wouldn't want to make her angry with you."

Denerou chuckled. "No, we wouldn't want that. I promise to try not to die."

"No one is going to die," came a voice from behind him. Turning, he saw Wynne step out from the command tent. "I'm coming with you."

* * *

><p>Fenris ducked the fireball that raced over his head, slamming into the Templar in front of him, sending him flying across the arena. The drained shards of lyrium shattered on impact, dust billowing in the air. He heard Anders laugh and the tightness in his chest loosened. Anders liked to cut things a little too close at times. Fenris wondered if the mage did it on purpose, or if that was just the way he fought.<p>

Anders was definitely enjoying himself.

Therion and Lucretia had hauled the stumbling elven woman and Malcolm through a doorway, making their escape when they saw Marian running towards them. Malcolm had let out a frightened shout, his hands reaching out for his mother before he disappeared from sight.

That had been right before the Templars had shown up.

The Templars of Tevinter had always been ineffectual, but these were under the command of the Archon now. They had stood by and allowed him to do his dark ritual, and now they were his living shields, a barrier between him and those that wanted to stop him.

No matter how much Anders' views had relaxed since he and Justice had parted, he was still getting a chance to kill Templars without repercussion. Another fireball zipped by, close enough that Fenris could feel the searing heat on his face.

Rhys was a blur of blue light, striking too quickly for any of them, let alone the Templars, too see, while Zevran disappeared and reappeared all over the arena, his daggers finding weaknesses in the Templar's armor.

They might be able to silence Marian and Anders, but they couldn't stand against two Templars that had more experience fighting than they did. The Templars of Tevinter were little more than an honor guard to the Black Divine. Carver and Cullen moved as one unit, coordinating attacks as if they were part of some macabre dance. They spoke using signals born of fighting together for years, cutting down one Templar after another.

Behind him, Marian and Anders cast spells to throw the Templars off guard, while Fenris prevented them from getting too close.

The moment the last Templar fell, Marian was off again, her staff in her hand, chasing after her son. Fenris had just enough time to flick blood away from his sword before he followed her with the others.

If the upper levels of the Coliseum were a maze, then the lower parts that ran under it were a veritable labyrinth, mean to trap the unwary and keep them lost for eternity. Yet Marian seemed to know where she was going, and none of the others were going to stop and ask how. She held her staff in front of her, only occasionally slowing down at junctions before glancing at it and making a decision where to turn.

"Locater spell," Marian huffed as she ran. "Created it a long time ago when Malcolm liked to hide from me. He thought it was hilarious when I couldn't find him for hours and would be in a panic. Damn Viscount's Keep. It's too big. Doesn't work until I'm within a certain distance of him."

She practically flew down a series of stairs that spiraled deeper into the bowels of the Coliseum. The air was dank and reeked of death. No wonder the Archon had chosen this place. How many had died here over the centuries? Fenris remembered that Aedan had told him that the Veil was always thinner in areas that had seen much death. Now the Archon had added more to it.

Fenris meant to see his death as the last.

She threw a door open and burst inside an empty room lit with torches. Her feet slid into a halt, and Anders almost slammed into her, stopping himself by placing a hand on her shoulder. In front of them, Therion had the elven woman by her hair, gripping it tightly.

And Lucretia had a dagger to Malcolm's throat.

* * *

><p>Aedan followed Denerou and Wynne's progress with the spyglass, his knuckles white against the brass. Demons and a few darkspawn threw themselves at the shield that Wynne had erected around them, and already Aedan could see that she was flagging, although the shield held strong. There were several bright flashes of familiar blue from the edges of the battle, and Elvhen darted into the thick of it, cutting through the demons and creating a path for Wynne and Denerou. It wouldn't last long, and they could do nothing to prevent the arrows and spells that rebounded off the shield.<p>

Denerou abruptly stopped and glanced back at Wynne before nocking an arrow to the Starkhaven bow. He pulled, sighting down the shaft, his stance perfect and controled. His lips moved, and the shield dropped as he let the arrow fly. Aedan yanked the spyglass up as he lost sight of it, locking onto Plinius instead. The magister jerked, his lips hanging slack in midsentence, before crumpling to the ground, feathers bursting from his forehead.

"Shit," Aedan cursed as he looked back to where Denerou and Wynne were. "Come on… Get that dammed shield back up."

But it was too late. Denerou staggered back, the bow falling from his fingers as a bolt of lightning slammed into him. Aedan watched helpless as he fell to the ground, Wynne stumbling to his side, dropping to her knees.

Wynne looked around at the oncoming demons, and then down to Denerou. Her face set in grim lines, and apprehension swept over Aedan.

"Don't do it, Wynne," he whispered, as if by will alone she could hear him. "Don't do—"

Blue light burst forth from the mage, obscuring her and Denerou, enveloping them completely.

* * *

><p>The thing about being a Grey Warden was that there weren't too many perks. Of course, they never told you that before you drank the foulest concoction known to man, and Anders had sipped from one of Oghren's brews once.<p>

Archdemon blood and magic still tasted worse.

It shortened life spans. That is, if you even lived long enough to slowly turn into a ghoul. Retirement was a joke, and either way you looked at it, you were going to die by darkspawn.

There was the fact that you could fuck for hours, but that only really was worthwhile if your partner could. Otherwise you might actually hurt them.

But the benefit, the thing that had them gaining a resistance to the taint, was that they could feel the darkspawn when they were close.

Just like now.

Anders, Fenris, Carver and Zevran exchanged looks of understanding. All four of them could feel the same thing. The dwarves had not only collapsed some of the escape tunnels under the city, but they had left a few open, guarding them to lead people out if they were civilians, controlling the flow.

All but one.

That one tunnel had been the providence of the darkspawn. It had been close to the tunnels they had gone through to get to Minrathous, and Lucretia was edging closer to the entrance. She reached behind her and slapped a palm over an innocuous stone, all without removing the dagger or taking her eyes off of Marian. Stone grated against itself as a hidden door swung open.

Anders was a little bit afraid of Marian himself right now. Anyone in their right mind would be.

Malcolm stared with yearning, wide eyes at his mother as tears tracked down his cheeks. His lips moved in a silent, 'Mama', and Marian took an unconscious step towards him.

"Give him to me and I'll make your death quick," Marian promised through clenched teeth.

Lucretia laughed, the sound ringing false in Anders' ears. "Such talk in front of a child."

"Malcolm has heard worse from his Aunty Izzy," Marian spat. "Stop using a child as a shield and face me like a woman, you bitch."

Therion was engrossed in watching in the exchange between the two women, so he missed the shadow that edged silently towards him.

Lucretia backed up towards the yawning entrance of the tunnel. "I don't think so. I think I'll keep him. Maybe someday I'll let him write to you and have him tell you how much he loves his new mother."

A shadow loomed behind her, and long, inhuman fingers that ended in talons reached out hovering on either side of Lucretia's head. She might not have seen them, but everyone else in the room did, including Therion.

"Lucretia! Look—"

His warning came too late. The talons dug into her skin and she screamed in horror as rivulets of blood poured down her face. The Architect used no magic when he jerked her head to the side, effectively snapping her neck with a sickening crunch. The dagger clattered to the ground along with her lifeless body, and Malcolm raced to his mother, flinging himself at her, sobbing into her neck.

There was a surprised shout, and Anders jerked his eyes over to the Archon. Zevran backed away from the Archon, twirling a small rod between his fingers. "Don't let your skills get rusty my old Crow Master was fond of saying." He skipped backwards. "I killed him in the end, but his advice was sound."

"It doesn't matter. Take the rod, take the city. Let your pet darkspawn raze it to the ground." Therion spat. "Enjoy your victory for what little while you have it." He shook the woman by the hair and she whimpered in pain. "All of Thedas will tremble before me."

Never one to stand idle, Carver raised his sword in an offensive position and rushed at the Archon with a cry. Therion smiled at him, his beard twitching with the movement. He raised his free hand, palm out, and a burst of power slammed into the young Warden, sending him flying to crash against the wall behind him.

"I am the Archon," Therion intoned. "You cannot hope to win." He hauled the elven woman to her feet. The lyrium that had been freshly laid into her skin was weeping blood around the edges. Her eyes were glazed with pain and fear. Anders chanced a glance over at Fenris and saw the way his lover's jaw tightened in anger. Had it been the same way for Fenris? Had he awakened to blood, pain and confusion? Anders knew the answer to that was a resounding yes. How Danarius had done it without pulling off the spectacle that the Archon had created, Anders didn't know. He doubted that very few people knew the answer to that anymore.

"You are a fool," Fenris snapped. "Torturing a poor woman for your own selfish gains. It will come to naught. The Gate is guarded once more. You won't make it past him."

Therion laughed, the sound filled with triumph. "I know of Justice. Just as I know you released him back to his former post. I have knowledge of how my ancestors trapped him while they slipped into the Golden City."

A fissure of fear raced down Anders, tightening his skin as the air froze in his lungs. They had to prevent Therion from using the elf. Even if that meant she had to die.

Fire erupted on Anders' sword, and he exchanged a quick glance with Cullen, the Knight-Commander nodding in understanding. The two men ran at Therion, Anders with his fiery blade, Cullen with a prayer to the Maker, asking him for aid.

But just as they reached him, the smite falling from Cullen's lips, the Archon made his move. He jerked the woman's head to the side and whispered a word into her ear. Her brands ignited as she screamed in terror and pain. Anders was momentarily blinded, and he almost missed the Architect rushing forward, grasping the woman's arm in his hands before the three of them vanished out of sight.

The smite erupted from Cullen a second too late, and Anders let out a cry of rage, slashing at the place where Therion had once stood with his sword. "Fuck!" he whirled around. "Maker, damn it!"

His eyes landed on Fenris, took in the stubborn set of his jaw, and the steel hardness of his eyes. Anders knew then, he knew what Fenris was going to do. "No…" he whispered. "Love—"

Fenris turned to face the others. "Run. Get Malcolm out of here and the rod to Aedan. If you can't find him, there is a golem in camp by the name of Shale. She will know how to use the rod."

He turned to Rhys, speaking quickly in Arcanum. "Go with them. Zevran will know the way back to the Eluvian. If you can't get to it, he also knows where the tunnels are."

Rhys grinned at Fenris. "You're trusting me to get your friends back safely, young elf?"

Fenris rolled his eyes. "Don't make too much of it."

"We're not leaving without you," Marian insisted.

"We have no choice." He glanced away from Marian, unable to meet her eyes. "You have been a good friend to me, better than what I deserved at the time. Save your son, Marian."

Marian buried her face in Malcolm's light brown hair, squeezing her eyes shut. "I didn't do anything Fenris. It was always you. I…" Her tear filled eyes opened. "Thank you. For everything." Without another word she turned to race out the door, Malcolm clutched tightly in her arms. Cullen followed her after a respectful nod of his head.

"You pull this off and Aedan and I will reward you, yes?" Zevran gave him a wicked grin full of promise. "We will have more fun together the four of us. I couldn't sit down correctly for days." He gave them an elegant bow and left the room.

"I do not want to know," Carver muttered. "I'll just thank the Maker that I am no longer near any of your rooms." His expression sobered. "Go kill the bastard."

Rhys was the only one left besides Anders. He dug a hand into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a medallion. He held it out by its silver chain, the metal winking in the torchlight. "Take this, for luck." He turned and tossed it to Anders who caught it in midair. "I take it you won't be leaving without your mage. May the Dread Wolf be at your side and not at your back."

And then he was gone.

Anders glanced down at the medallion. It was nothing more than an unadorned silver disk. He jerked his eyes up at Fenris. "Damn right you're not leaving without me. I'm not going to do that again."

Fenris gave him a warm smile and held out his hand. "I wasn't planning on it."


	94. Chapter 94

**_WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS_**

If you don't want to read that I have marked the start of the ending with a "&" with the quotation marks.**_  
><em>**

* * *

><p>Therion hadn't lied when he'd said he had a way to trap Justice. The spirit was nowhere to be found when they had entered the Fade.<p>

Neither was anyone else.

That fucking plateau that Anders and Fenris had seen time and time again, floated in the disordered world of the Fade. Fenris wondered if it was ingrained in their psyche now. The Fade took on the whims of those that inhabited it.

"We're too late." Anders strode around the plateau, kicking up dust as he went. "Maker, help us. I think they're already in the city."

Drawing in a slow breath through his nose, Fenris shook his head. "You should go. I'll take you back."

Anders whirled around on him, an incredulous expression on his face. "The fuck? Oh, no, we aren't doing this. What happened to not leaving without me?"

"That was before we knew they were already in the city. We don't know what's in there, Anders."

"All the more reason to stay together. Don't pull your protective bullshit on me, Fenris. I got myself out of the Archon's Tower, remember?" Anders strode over to him and placed a gentle hand on Fenris' cheek. "I love you, and I know you worry about me, Love. Now take us to the Black City."

Fenris leaned forward and crushed their lips together as his brands flared to life. He used the feel of Anders against him, the warmth of his lips, the taste of him on his tongue as a way to prevent his mind from screaming, telling him that his body couldn't handle what he was doing.

Blue, iridescent light enveloped them as they embraced. Fenris felt the snap in the Fade, and he knew the door had opened. Still, he kissed his lover. Whether unable or unwilling to stop, he didn't know or care. He was dimly aware that there should be some irony in what they were doing. Mages had chased Fenris across Thedas in order to use him, to force him to do what he had been created for. Now he was willingly doing just that. But Anders wasn't a magister. Anders didn't want power, or to use Fenris.

The difference was palatable, and Fenris felt his breath catch in his throat.

It was Anders who broke the kiss, glancing over Fenris' head. "It's time."

It occurred so quickly, that Anders didn't realize what had happened at first.

Even before they had stepped through the Gate they had both felt it. This feeling of trespassing in a place that mortals were not meant to be. It felt like Anders' skull had become too tight, squeezing his brain as his mind tried to comprehend what he was looking at. He had balked, for the barest moment before stepping inside the Black City.

If the city had ever been Golden, it wasn't now. It seemed dead, like a blackened skeleton left to decay into dust. Their footsteps made no sound on the onyx floor. Anders tried to concentrate, to focus his eyes on anything in the massive room, but his mind rebelled and he would invariably be forced to look away.

He and Fenris gripped each other's hands tightly, needing the feel of something solid, something real in this disorienting place.

It was no wonder that they didn't see Therion ahead of them. It was no wonder that they missed the spell that flew from his staff.

And it was no wonder that Anders only knew he'd been hit when the pain took him to his knees.

He glanced down, his mouth slackened in shock. Blood had splattered to shine wetly across the dark floor.

_That's too much_, Anders thought dully. _That's too much…_

He could hear Fenris screaming his name, his lover's clutching at his shoulders. Anders leaned gratefully back as Fenris' hands ran over Anders' face, tilting it up so that the mage could look at him.

_I'm going into shock_, Anders thought. He opened his mouth to tell Fenris this, but he couldn't seem to make his lips move. His tried to glance down the length of his body, but Fenris firmly tilted his face back.

"Don't look," Fenris choked. Tears were spilling freely down the elf's face, his features twisted with grief and pain.

"Don't…cry… love…" Anders rasped. "Heal…"

Fenris shook his head, a choking sob escaping his lips. "Too much…" His lips curled into a snarl. "I'll rip him apart for this."

"That's… my… Fenris…"

As Anders slipped away, the last thing he felt was Fenris' lips on his own, and his lover's tears on his face.

* * *

><p>Fenris' body shook in silent sobs. He couldn't make himself look down Anders' body. He knew what it looked like, had been right next to him when it had happened. The spell that the Archon had unleashed had sheared through Anders' right side, reducing it to a mass of shredded flesh and spraying blood.<p>

Anders was a great healer, but no one could fix what the Archon had done.

Fenris opened his mouth and a scream erupted from his lips. He screamed until he didn't have air left in his lungs, until his throat was burning and raw. He sat on the floor, panting for breath as he looked into Anders' vacant eyes.

Rage like nothing that Fenris had ever known before welled up inside him. He pressed a quick kiss to Anders' slack lips and stood, his sword in his hands. With a cry, his brands ignited. He lost himself in the lyrium, in his connection to the Fade. Rhys had told him that Fenris had to let go of his fear. His one fear had always been to lose Anders, and that was gone now, Therion's spell obliterating it along with his lover.

The Black City snapped into focus. Little details that Fenris had been unable to center on became clear. He saw the enormous empty throne at one end of the room. He saw the Architect and Therion battling each other, slinging spells back and forth. He saw the elven woman collapsed in a heap on the floor, forgotten by her master.

But it was Therion that caught Fenris' attention. With a thought he was at the Archon's side, slipping in and out of the Fade to move quicker than the eye could follow. The magister turned in surprise and his hands flew in front of him, erecting a shield as Fenris' sword came down.

* * *

><p>Anders stared down at his body in horror. He jerked his head to the side, following the battle. He took a few steps towards Fenris, his hands outstretched, when he stumbled to a halt, slamming against some sort of barrier. He pounded his hands against it, his mouth opening to scream Fenris' name.<p>

"You can't walk away from your body," said a voice from behind him. "Silly, but true all the same. They can't hear or see you either."

Anders spun around and gaped at the figure behind him. "You… You're a talking wolf. A very large wolf, but uh…"

The wolf's tongue lolled out in a parody of a laugh. "Sorry, I missed my old skin. Is this better?" Golden light shimmered around the wolf. When it dissipated a woman stood in its place.

"Flemeth…" Anders breathed, or would have if he were still capable.

"I will forgive you stating the obvious because you are recently dead," she chided. "I have to admit, I did not expect to see you and Fenris here. Rhys was the one that had been tasked with the medallion."

So many things clicked into place, slotting together to form a much larger picture. "A small piece. Isn't that what you told Hawke? You wanted into the Black City," he accused. "All of this bullshit was to get you back here."

She laughed, the sound ringing in a way that other noises in the room couldn't. "You think too small. In part, but I could have had someone bring me here in a myriad of other ways. I just needed to be here for this moment."

"What are you talking about? What moment?"

"Life is full of moments," she replied. "Threads that are woven together to create a tapestry. A thread out of place, a different choice in color, and the picture changes. The fall of the magisters is one such thread. Aedan Cousland bringing the armies of Thedas together, Feynriel to urge Cato into seeking the Elvhen, Rhys to teach Fenris what he could do, Fenris to realize his potential so that he can fulfill his purpose. It's all a part of the tapestry that I wove, thread by thread."

"That doesn't make any sense," Anders burst out. "You said Rhys was supposed to be here."

Flemeth laughed again. "He is marked as one of mine, and he does as he wills. I would not be surprised to find that Rhys decided that Fenris was up to the task more than he was. If I had done this without the chaos that the Archon had sown, without the tearing down of the magisters, or bringing the Elvhen back then there would be little reason for it."

"What if you were wrong?" he asked. "What if Aedan had died at any point, or any of us for that matter?"

"Then I would unravel and start again," she assured him. "I have been here since the First. I am nothing if not patient."

Anders glanced over his shoulder where the battle was taking place. Fenris was bleeding from a head wound, the blood staining his hair. The Architect had one hand clutched ta his side, dark blood pouring between his fingers. "How is any of this worth it?" Anders whispered. "All of this pain and suffering…"

"Would you have asked me that years ago when you wished the mages to be free? Freedom is worth almost any price. I condemned my siblings by my actions. I separated them from the mortals. Only Hope and I remembered what we once had been. We are the First and we had forgotten our Father's words to us-we needed to adapt, to create. Justice has learned that lesson. Only by his association with you was he able to learn, to feel things other than his function. Faith knows this. As we speak, my sister has left her vessel and is inhabiting another. What she will learn from him, not even my Father can know. My time with the mortals has taught me this as well."

"That's why you wanted the Archdemon in a child, isn't it? You wanted Beauty to come to the Fade after he'd felt emotions other than what he'd been created to encompass." As the full scope of Flemeth's plans came to light, Anders found himself remembering every little thing that had done over the years, every little move by them all. "If Aedan hadn't taken up Morrigan's offer, you would have just waited until the next Blight." It wasn't a question and he didn't even bother to state it as such.

"My, you are a quick one. Tower training didn't strip that from you at least." Her golden wolf-like eyes stared at him unflinching. "So many of my brothers and sisters were lost, locked in their dragon forms and filled with madness even before the magisters came to the Golden City. I was the one that did that to them. I wish to save the few that are left. I mean to set them free."

"That's what you needed Fenris for." Anders said flatly. "He's more than just the Key to the city. He's the Key to unlocking the prisons you put the First Children in."

"Ah…" Flemeth breathed. "Now you understand. Unlocking the prisons will require one of mine. I was the one to create the prisons, one of mine have to be the one who will undo it. The change to Thedas will be monumental. I needed a world already in flux. The Grey Wardens had to have a leader that would be willing to work to bring the remaining Archdemons home. The Chantry needed people that were able to challenge them, to work towards creating understanding."

"I can't tell if you're insane or a genius," Anders muttered.

Flemeth threw back her head and laughed. "Hope would agree with you."

"I do." A woman appeared next to Flemeth. She waved unnaturally long fingers at Anders, and gave him an almost blinding smile. "But my broth—" She ran her eyes over Flemeth. "Sister this time… My sister has ensured that she will have her way. The pieces are in play, and there is no turning back now."

Hope was beautiful. She looked like every painting of young innocence, and when she smiled, Anders felt some of the tension ease out of him.

"You two have spoken long enough. It's time for Anders to go." Hope held out her hand towards the mage.

"No!" Anders gestured behind him toward Fenris. "I won't leave Fenris. What will happen to him?"

The smile Hope gave him was full of… hope. "Don't worry. Fenris still has his part to play. You're part is over with." She drew up to him. "Sleep, Anders. Your time is done." Leaning forward she pressed her lips to his.

And Anders knew no more.

* * *

><p>Fenris didn't think. There was no room for it. Cold anger had frozen any feeling or thought. He didn't feel the pain in his body from a myriad of wounds. Fenris felt nothing except rage. He didn't dwell on his lover's lifeless body, or the war that was taking place in the mortal world. None of those things mattered as much as the urge to feel Therion's heart in his hand.<p>

If he let himself think of Anders, even for a moment, then Fenris would cease to function, his mind collapsing in on itself.

Therion was strong. He was the Archon of Tevinter and a magister that had never hesitated to use blood magic to obtain what he wanted. All of Tevinter either loved or feared him. But demonic magic wouldn't help him in the Black City, and the magister was beginning to flag from the double onslaught of the Architect and Fenris.

When Fenris' sword slipped passed Therion's barrier for the first time, the elf knew he had him. He slashed at Therion's arm, slicing it open to the bone. The magister screamed in surprised pain. Taking the element of surprise he let his sword slip from his hands, falling to the floor without a sound. With a cry, he shoved both of his hands into the Archon's chest. He let the magister fell every second of pain, his clawed gauntlets tearing through bone and lung to get to his black heart. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat that Fenris felt against his bared palms, Therion's eyes glazed with fear.

"No…" Therion gurgled.

"If I could, I would make this last," Fenris hissed, his face twisted with pain. With a quick jerk and a spray of blood, he pulled the organ free, Therion collapsing to the floor.

Fenris stood over the corpse of the Archon of Tevinter, blood soaked and panting. He felt paralyzed, unable to know what it was he was supposed to do now. Slowly he turned his head, his eyes unerringly finding Anders' body.

Reality crashed through him and pain bloomed over his body, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. He dropped to his knees, unable to keep on his feet. His hands clawed uselessly on the floor, great wracking sobs tumbling from his lips.

So many memories crashed through his mind. He and Anders fighting, bickering the second they saw each other. Fenris following Anders because he was sure that the mage was hiding something from him. Anders caring for him on the ship to Ferelden. The first time they kissed. The first time they made love. The first time Anders told Fenris that he loved him. How Anders would always have something inappropriate to say, a crooked grin on his face. Waking up to see Anders had taken over his half of the bed, oblivious to Pounce lounging on his chest.

Fenris squeezed his eyes shut tightly, but the memories kept coming. The promises they had made together. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He and Anders were going to make love one final time, and then drink wine laced with deathroot. Anders hated the Deep Roads, and Fenris didn't want him to go there during his last moments on earth. When Anders' Calling came, they were going die to in each other's arms.

Gone… All of it gone now.

He wasn't aware of the Architect checking the elven woman, feeling that her pulse was faint, but still there. He didn't see Flemeth appearing behind him, her fingers hovering over his back in regret before pulling it away.

"You're not finished here."

Fenris slowly lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at her. "Leave me."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "What? No questions as to what I'm doing here?"

"I care not." Snatching his sword from the floor, Fenris staggered to his feet and pushed passed her, stumbling towards Anders' body.

"Would you rather die falling on your sword next to him, or doing something that would actually help all of Thedas?" she called after him.

Fenris paused in mid step and whirled around towards her. "Fuck you. You put these circumstances into play. His blood is on your hands."

"Not only his," Flemeth admitted. "My soul, if I have one, is stained with it. You can stop the Blights. You can ensure that mages will shake off the stigma of the magisters."

"How do I know these aren't more of your lies," Fenris hissed.

"Why do people persist in thinking I lie? I have been honest with you. Whether or not I have held information back is another topic for debate. You have the ability to free the First, to free the Archdemons from their prison. Once their song ends for the darkspawn, the darkspawn will cease trying to find and taint them."

"But the darkspawn will still be alive," Fenris countered. "They will still create more."

"And the Grey Wardens will continue on, ever vigilant," she replied. "Think of the lives you will save."

Fenris' teeth ground against each other. "Why should I care what happens out there? I do not plan to leave this place."

"And you won't," Flemeth said sadly. "Once the lock has been turned, the Key will be consumed."

Out of reflex, Fenris' hand went to his wrist, pressing his gauntlet down to push the bracelet of Anders' hair into his skin. Anders would have done it. Anders who had only ever wanted to help others. If it had been Fenris dead on the floor, Anders would have told Flemeth yes without hesitation.

There were times when Fenris thought that Anders was the better man of the two of them.

A tear slipped free at the thought, and he swallowed heavily. "What must I do?"

"There is one last door in the Black City. Find it and push, just as you have done before. Do not hesitate and be fearless. One of mine must know themselves enough that they will do what must be done."

Fenris nodded once and dropped his sword. He turned and stumbled over to Anders, dropping to his knees next to his lover. He caressed Anders' face, closing the mage's eyes so that he seemed as if he was sleeping. Except when Fenris laid his head on Anders' chest, he knew it for the lie it was. There was no comforting heartbeat, no rumble as the mage laughed at one of his own jokes. Fenris turned his nose into Anders' chest inhaling deeply one last time the scent of elfroot and lyrium.

Then he let go.

* * *

><p>"&amp;"<p>

The battle of Minrathous was over in just one day. The Army of Thedas had control of the Juggernauts, and without their Archon, the city surrendered, throwing open their gates. The city itself was in chaos for almost a year. Cato had been reinstated as the Divine, and he had campaigned for Gaius to become the new Archon. The citizens had seen what the last Archon had done. Therion's cronies were rounded up and executed for colluding with him to destroy the Senate. It would take years more before Tevinter was even remotely stable.

The Wardens Christopher and Merrill helped to install a new Circle of Magi, in conjunction with the Divine Justinia V. Using what Anders and Wynne had built upon, they carefully made changes to how the Circles were run. New rules were put into place. Mages were allowed to see their families, and the Harrowing had been declared unnecessary. Mages with nothing to fear tended to not turn to blood magic.

Years later, Starkhaven and Kirkwall were united when the Viscount's son and Princess Vael were married. The celebration lasted a month in both cities, and the Hero of Ferelden made an appearance, using the opportunity to reunite with old friends.

It would be the last time anyone saw Aedan.

One day Aedan and Zevran disappeared, leaving only a short note explaining that the First Warden was heeding the Calling. For the next few years, more Wardens followed suit. Nathaniel Howe was first, leaving Carver behind and instilling him as Warden-Commander. Soon Oghren, Sigrun, Velanna and others took their last trek into the Deep Roads.

The only one exempt was the Warden Denerou.

Denerou had left the Wardens and taken the journey to Arlathan. His merging with Faith had saved his life, and the Elvhen had extended an offer to help him.

When Sigrun left for her Calling, Varric had locked himself away for a month. When he emerged it was to publish what would be his greatest book 'A Dwarf's Courage'. It was an enthralling tale of a female dwarf who while facing adversity as one of the Legon of the Dead and then a Grey Warden, never lost her smile and sweet nature. Those that knew him never question the inspiration, or his dagger that he named Sigrun.

Morrigan went to live in Arlathan with her son Aedan. She frequently sent her son to Weisshaupt using the power of the Evluians. She and the Architect made great strides in finding a cure for the taint, but they never got any further than lengthening the lives of the newly Joined, changing the spell. It would do nothing for those who had already partaken.

The darkspawn changed.

The reports were slow to trickle in, but once they did, the Wardens saw the pattern. The only one who knew what had happened in the Black City was the Architect, and he had told only Aedan Cousland the tale. Of how Anders had died, and Fenris had killed the Archon in retribution. He had told Aedan that Flemeth had appeared, urging Fenris to help her one last time. The city was Golden once more, and the Architect had been pushed from the Fade by the power of Fenris opening the door, the elven woman with him. He had seen and heard enough, though.

All over Thedas, people's dreams were a little brighter. Only those that knew what Fenris had done understood why. Fenris had released the First, bringing them back to their full glory.

* * *

><p><em>Seheron<em>

Adelric awoke with a start, a scream half dying on his lips. He sat upright, the sweat on his skin cooling. He shivered and buried his face in his hands as he tried to calm his breathing and his rapid heartbeat.

It had been so long since he'd had one of those dreams, that he'd finally thought he'd gotten passed it. Ever since he'd been a small child, the nightmares had plagued him, showing him images of horrifying creatures that crawled out of the earth to devour all in their path. When he'd been younger, his mother had climbed into bed with him, and held him close until his terrified sobbing had abated.

He hadn't had her when he had gone to the Circle.

He still had seen his parents and brother once a month when they had come to visit, but that had not helped when night had fallen. As he'd grown older the nightmares had slowed down, disappearing for a time all together. In their place were dreams of adventure, of friends that he could never quite make out.

There also had been his lover.

Adelric would wake up hard and aching, his hands stealing under his blankets before his roommates could wake up and catch him. He had hated those dreams as much as the nightmares. It didn't matter who he was with, they never seemed to capture the intensity and love that his dream lover was capable of. Adelric couldn't help but compare, and his lovers in the waking world had always been found wanting.

It hadn't been fair of him, he had known that.

He sighed and threw back the covers. Getting to his feet, he padded naked to the washbasin. Maker, Seheron was hot. When Medwin had asked him to come to represent the Anderfels at a wedding, Adelric hadn't known what he was getting into. He'd gone from one extreme to another-from the biting cold of Hossburg in the Anderfels, to the searing heat of Seheron. He gingerly touched the back of his neck. Less than three hours in the city and Adelric had gotten himself quite a sunburn, his fair skin baking under the relentless sun.

But he had to admit to himself, that even if he had been aware of just how hot it was going to be, he wouldn't have turned down the chance to leave the Anderfels. Adelric had always wanted to go traveling, to see the world that he'd only read of in books. Medwin, being the fine king and excellent brother that he was, knew this and had offered to have Adelric go in his place.

Adelric thought that Medwin had known how fucking hot it was, and hadn't wanted to brave it.

He glanced over to the well-stuffed chair next to him. His dress robes were all laid out and freshly pressed. Fuck… The last thing he wanted to do now was go to a wedding. Not when he still felt the aching hole in his chest.

His dream this time had felt so real, more so than any before. There had been blood, pain, and such loss, that Adelric could still feel the agony in his throat. Closing his eyes, he drew in a slow breath to center himself. He had more important things to worry about, like not making an ass out of himself. There were parties to go to afterwards, and he had to make an appearance at each one.

It was times like this that solidified his decision to turn down the throne. His father hadn't been too happy about it, but he'd understood. Adelric just didn't have the temperament for it. He was all cocky smiles, and inappropriate jokes. When he'd come of age and left the Circle, he'd opened up a clinic in Hossburg to cater to the poor, people that couldn't afford to go to the Chantry for healing. He liked his work and hadn't wanted to leave it.

Besides, Medwin was a far better king. Adelric freely admitted that.

After their parents had died, and Medwin had taken the throne, Adelric had fallen into a pattern. Each day he would wake up and make the trek to his clinic, where he would spend most of his time training the healers and taking patients. He would then head back to the palace, eat, and go out once again, hitting up the taverns.

His work fulfilled him. Rambling around Hossburg looking for a fuck didn't.

He'd needed to get away for a time, get his head straight. Maybe that's why he was having the dreams again. His subconscious was trying to tell him something, and Adelric could be damned if he could figure it out.

The wedding was beautiful. It took take place in gardens filled with brightly colored flowers that flourished in the unrelenting sun of Seheron. Adelric was seated with the other dignitaries behind the bride and groom's families. A tall man with dark hair and arms that bulged with muscle sat next to him. Occasionally he would lean over to whisper something into a blonde elf's ear, a smile on his lips.

Adelric had a suspicion they were lovers.

As the Grand Cleric droned on, Adelric found his eyes wandering. He'd never been good at sitting still for very long. It had gotten him into trouble more than once in the Circle. He glanced to his right, his eyes skimming over the hired bodyguards. They were there more for show than actual security, a way for the groom to tell his bride's family that he could protect her if need be. Some sort of Seheron tradition.

It was silly. Adelric had met a woman once, with dark skin and a smirk on her lips, that would have laughed if someone told her that she couldn't protect herself. Then she would have stuck a dagger in their chest for the trouble.

Good times. He'd shown her his electricity trick when he'd met her. When he'd woken up the next morning he'd found her place in the bed empty. He hadn't even gotten her name.

As his mind wandered, Adelric's eyes tripped over one of the guards. It took his brain a moment to catch up, and when it did, his gaze shot back to him.

Maker above! He knew he was staring like a mabari catching sight of a tasty haunch of meat, but shit…

The elf had dark hair that shone red under the noonday sun. His armor was deep black, jutting out in sharp spikes. His feet were slightly parted and planted firmly into the gravel, his arms crosse dove rhis chest. Adelric hungrily traced over his features, his eyes landing on full lips and olive skin. But it was when the guard glanced up, and their eyes caught, that Adelric knew that the wedding just got a lot more interesting.

It took him four hours to track the elf down after the wedding. He'd been able to get a name, but nothing more. Leto. He was infamous in Seheron for being more than competent with his sword. He worked for no single person, but if one was able to meet his exorbitant price then he was intensely loyal. Having him at the wedding had raised the groom in the bride's family's eyes.

Adelric smoothed down his rich, blue robes. The reception was in full swing and he'd as of yet found Leto. A small voice in the back of his mind that he liked to refer to as Medwin, told him that he wasn't there to try and seduce handsome elves.

Adelric promptly told the voice to shut up. There was always time to seduce handsome elves.

The argument won, Adelric turned the corner down a long, but empty hallway. The house was massive in size, decorated in all the splendor a wealthy wine merchant could afford.

Maybe Adelric should have paid better attention when he'd been told his host's name.

As he passed by an open door, he didn't see the hand tipped in claws that shot out to grasp the back of his robes. He let out an undignified yelp as he was yanked back into the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

"Why are you following me?"

Adelric gaped at the elf that had his robes twisted in his hands. Scratch that. There was always a time and a place to seduce a handsome elf that spoke like what sex sounded. He licked lips suddenly gone dry and flashed :eto a crooked smile that never seemed to fail to elicit giggles from the whores of Hossburg.

Not only was Leto not a whore, he narrowed his eyes as well.

"Have you seen you?" Adelric blurted out. _Oh, nice one!_ He thought to himself with no small amount of distain. _Why not ask him if he has some mage in him, and would he want some?_

"Excuse me?" Leto released him and took a step back. "Do I know you?"

"No," Adelric replied honestly. "But you could." _Please say yes. Please say yes. _

"You've been asking about me. What do you want?" Leto tilted his head to the side, staring Adelric down with his intense, green eyes. Adelric's breath caught. The room they were in was a small study, and the only light were a few flickering candles. The flames made Leto's eyes glitter brilliantly, small flames that Adelric couldn't look away from.

The ache was back in his heart, the all-consuming despair. He never quite remembered his dreams, only bits and pieces. But the feelings always lingered, weighing him down. As he stared at Leto, he felt tears prickling the back so his eyes, and he blinked rapidly to force them back.

This was a mistake.

"I…" Adelric sucked in a shuddering breath. "Nothing, excuse me." He turned to open the door when Leto grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back around.

Leto had first noticed him when the young prince had been seated at the wedding. He couldn't take his eyes off the man. There was something about him, something that scream, 'I know you'. They had met before, Leto was sure of it. But the memory eluded him, no matter how hard he tried to grasp at the slippery strands.

When the wedding was over, his job had been finished. Varania and his mother had scolded him when he'd told them how much they'd been willing to pay him in order to stand and do nothing for an hour. He'd reminded them that it was much better than taking a contract for something he would have to actually use his sword for.

Still he'd lingered at the reception, silently following the mage that had caught his eye. He was wary around mages as a whole. Once he'd taken a contract in Minrathous that had resulted in one of the worst experiences of his life. Danarius had been cruel to his servants, treating them like slaves. In the end, Leto had been forced to kill the man when he'd found Danarius raping a young elven woman on top of the body of her husband.

The Imperium hadn't liked that. It had taken two months for Leto to clear his name and come back to Seheron.

Ever since then, mages had left a bad taste in his mouth. He only dealt with magisters that had recommendations from former clients. No longer would he work for someone that walked up to him with a pouch full of glinting gold.

And he certainly didn't fuck them.

But there was something about this mage that casually wandered the ballroom, asking subtle questions about who Leto was. At first, Leto had thought that Adelric had been someone sent from Minrathous for retribution, but his own questions put those fears to rest.

Prince Adelric of the Anderfels. Born a mage and sent to the Circle when he was twelve. Older brother to the current king, he had willingly stood aside to let the more qualified man rule.

None of those things had told Leto why he should feel as if he knew the man.

"Why do I feel as if I know you?" Leto asked him. He pulled Adelric closer, careful not to puncture his fine robes with his gauntlet.

Adelric's eyes widened just a fraction. "Do you believe in fate?"

Leto snorted. "Are you trying to come on to me?"

"No!" Adelric paused and then nodded. "Well, yes. But I can do better than that. Usually..." He muttered the last under his breath. "I just mean… I…" He let out a cry of frustration. "Look, you're not with anyone, are you?"

"With anyone?" Leto repeated slowly.

"I just…" Adelric's eyes ran over Leto's face, dropping down to latch onto his lips. "Fuck it," he mumbled before leaning down and taking the elf's lips in a kiss.

Leto let out a muffled cry of surprise. The feel of Adelric's lips moving over his, the mage's taste, the scent of elfroot and lyrium…

Something broke inside Leto, something he hadn't even known was there. His hands slid up Adelric's shoulders of their own volition, pulling the mage close. Leto wasn't the kind of man that slept with people he barely knew. He was intensely private, and the few lovers he'd been with, had never touched anything inside him.

But this kiss, this kiss from a foreign prince that he didn't even know, was tearing Leto apart. It was madness in the extreme.

The kiss broke and Leto found himself chasing Adelric's lips with his own before he knew what he was doing. He felt his ears heat in embarrassment and he jerked back away from the man. "You… Why… What…"

Adelric laughed, the sound full of joy. "Yeah… Me too." He held out his hand. "My name is Adelric, some people call me Anders. By some people I mean everyone. It started as a joke in the Circle, and the nickname stuck."

Leto stared at the offered hand as if he'd never seen one before. His eyes slowly traveled upwards to meet warm, brown eyes. "Leto." He hesitated and then gripped Adelric's hand in a firm handshake. "They call me Fenris."

"Wolf…" Adelric grinned. "Fits you."

Leto couldn't believe that they were having this conversation, as if his world hadn't just been turned upside down. Things like this didn't really happen. A single kiss from a stranger didn't just change everything.

But as he took in Adelric's earnest smile, he knew that's exactly what had happened.

_One month later._

Adelric hurried down the busy streets, weaving through the thick market crowd. His pack was slung over one shoulder and it bounced against his hip with each stride.

Medwin was going to be _pissed_.

Not only had Adelric ditched the reception, but he hadn't made it to any of the parties he was supposed to have attended over the past month. It was his brother's fault really. Adelric couldn't be blamed for spending the past few weeks in bed with Leto. Anyone who saw the elf wouldn't blame him for that. Leto had even gifted Adelric with a kitten. A _kitten_! How could Adelric do any other than to give him as many blowjobs as the elf could take after that?

As if the kitten could read his thoughts—and Adelric had always maintained that they could—he popped his head out of the opening in the pack and meowed in his ear.

"I know, Pounce," he huffed out as be started to run. "I'm late. I knew this would happen, but we had to let Leto have some time with his family before we set sail."

Turning a corner, he skidded to the halt in the street and whirled to the right. He knocked impatiently on the door of the large, but modest, house. Almost hopping from foot to foot in his excitement, he couldn't keep the grin off his face when the door opened.

Leto stood on the threshold, a small pack in his hand. "You're late. I've been ready for an hour."

Adelric was momentarily struck dumb, as he always was when Leto peered at him with those wonderful green eyes. Most of the trees in the Anderfels were like the rest of the country, dense and hearty, built to withstand the freezing cold temperatures and harsh earth. Until he'd come to Seheron, he'd never seen the myriad shades of green that the world had to offer.

Leto's eyes were his favorite by far, seeming to shift in color with his mood.

Leaning down, he took Leto's lips in a deep kiss. Even though it wasn't his fault that he'd missed the parties—Adelric was firm in his belief it was Medwin's somehow—he was still going to have to thank his brother for sending him. If he hadn't, Adelric would never have met Leto. He never would have kissed him, made love with him, felt what it was like to be with someone that not only compared to his dream lover, but exceeded him in all ways. Adelric felt complete with Leto, and he wasn't about to let that go.

He pulled back and gave Leto a crooked grin. "I love you." It hadn't taken long for those words to leave Adelric's lips. A mere week after they first met. The whole thing was insane, but the two of them were going with it, not wanting to part from the other.

"I love you too," Leto whispered. "But we have to go. Our ship is leaving soon."

Adelric hesitated. "Are you sure? Leaving your family behind? You don't have to. I could figure out a way to come back, to stay with you."

Leto rolled his eyes. "I am sure. Varania and mother practically begged me to go so I would stop speaking of it. It's not as if I won't see them again."

A bit of tension hat Adelric hadn't know he was carrying leaked out of him. He held out his hand. "Ready to run away with me, Love?"

Leto shook his head, but Adelric didn't miss the small smile that played around his lips. He intertwined their fingers. "Always."

Hope grinned up at Justice as they watched the two men hurry down the street towards the docks. "See? The two of them never gave up hope. Not in each other, and not in themselves. I haven't felt anything like that in so long. I had to make sure their sacrifice did not go unrewarded."

"Thank you," Justice said. "They were my friends."

"They were friends to many," Hope added. "Our Father might be gone, but his children are not forgotten."

"Will they ever remember?" Justice titled his helmeted head at her. "Or is this rebirth as far as it will go?"

"They will never remember," Hope assured him. "They might touch upon their former selves in dreams, because the Fade connects all, but no more than that. This is a place of different choices. For some, those choices might make their life worse than another place. For Adelric and Leto, the different choices of others have led to different circumstances. They will be happy here."

Justice abruptly stepped in front of her. She could feel his eyes staring at her even though his helmet obscured his face. "They are not supposed to be here, are they?"

"They are now." She winked at him. Her bother was always such a stickler for the rules. "And they won't be the only ones. Don't worry, Brother. Do you really think Father would let me do this if it wasn't his will? It matters not that they don't believe in his power or his love of his Children. He loves them regardless." She slapped him playfully on the shoulder, her hand ghosting through his armor and touching the spirit. "Besides, I like happy endings."

* * *

><p>AN:

That's it! Thank you everyone for reading and encouraging me. It was always going to end this way, but I decided to give them a heroes death before the rebirth. Beforehand it was going to be during Anders' Calling.

Once again, thank you!


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